The Darkest Poison
by WickedAngel23
Summary: In the darkest depths of Port Angeles, a war has begun. Sociopathic vampire Edward seeks revenge on a hunter, Jacob, and as images of a girl haunt Jacob's mind, Edward is determined that he will hunt her down... REPOST.
1. Predator

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
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**1. PREDATOR  
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**_This is not a new fanfiction. It is a re-post of the first fanfiction I wrote on this site, under the penname Laughs Like The Sun. It will reside here, in it's completed form. _  
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**E. **

I was not accustomed to denying myself my most base desires. It was not something I had ever had to think about before – if I wanted something, I got it. Tonight was no different. There was no moon in the cloudless sky and the overhead street lights flickered darkly, almost like an omen, as I maneuvered my way through the streets of Port Angeles.

I rarely chose my victims carefully. My hunting patterns were so erratic that I was normally ravenous by the time I actually decided to head out, and I could not afford to be picky. The process did not require thought; I was the world's most dangerous predator.

My eyes were unhindered by distance, so acute in their accuracy that I missed nothing. My speed went unparalleled, there was no chase I would not win. My strength was so potent, there was no means of escape.

I was a vampire.

Once, I had a conscience. Once, I had denied what I had become, living as a recluse as I tried to fight back the self-hatred and excruciating boredom. I had emerged a true creature of the night, living for the chase, the hunt, the _game_. My conscience had long ago deserted me. The fact that I could hear the thoughts of my victims, hear them plead for their lives even when they were incapable of speech, had no bearing whatsoever. I was done pretending to be something I was not, and once I had made that decision, everything else disappeared.

There were others like me. In Port Angeles, there were three covens that I knew of and I belonged to one of them. Emmett McCarty and Rosalie Hale had taken up permanent residence in a relatively secluded house on the outskirts of town, away from prying neighbors. I was Rosalie's quiet cousin, come to stay from Alaska. It was the only explanation we needed — people were too wary of us to press for more information.

I was comfortable living with Emmett and Rosalie. Their thoughts did not annoy me as others did; they were shallow, easily amused creatures and it was easy to tune them out.

Still, I knew what they were thinking.

I lounged in an empty doorway, focused on the silence surrounding me. Rosalie paused on the roof above me, having caught her reflection in the window of a building opposite, and admired her own perfection. She _was_ exceptionally beautiful for one of our kind. She was a tall, statuesque blonde with porcelain pale skin and a model—like figure. It was too bad Emmett happened to be her partner — a rival I could handle, _Emmett_ I could not.

Emmett… he was thinking about flexing his bulging muscles. I could hear his knuckles crack in the distance as he fisted his hand, and his thoughts were laced with satisfaction as he admired his strength. Emmett was stronger than most vampires, and he towered above every single one. It was a pity he wasn't one of the smart ones; _I_ was the brain of our operations.

_I'm hungry_, Rosalie complained suddenly.

As if in agreement, the thirst in the back of my throat flared to life. I almost growled in annoyance at the distraction — I did not want to hunt; I wanted to _play_.

But my concentration had slipped, and suddenly I could feel, hear, smell… _everything_. Warmth pulsed through the cool, night air. Elusive, powerfully seductive scents haunted the city and my whole body reacted instinctively. _Hungrily._

"Let's play," I smirked. I shot out of my hiding place and I felt the tremors of their footsteps above my head as they scoured the rooftops. I headed north of the city as they sprinted further away from me, and their thoughts became easier to ignore. As I ran, my mind latched onto the trail of another's thoughts, close by, a girl's…

_… dumped me for his little whore… better fuck than she ever was… fuck him anyway… oops! Think I'm tipsy…_

"Do you need any help?" I murmured, my voice like muted velvet as I appeared in front of the pathetic, drunk girl who had stumbled forward before she noticed my arrival. Her narrow face peered up at me, her dull grey eyes staring at me as if she had never seen something so beautiful. It was possible she hadn't, and I used it to my advantage. My lips curved into a crooked grin. I offered my hand to help her up.

Her sweaty, warm palm slapped into mine awkwardly and I pulled her to her feet, still smiling through my repulsion.

_Wouldn't mind fucking _him_! That would show Evan… make _her_ jealous too, I bet… oh, crap, be cool, Vanessa…_

"That's a beautiful name, Vanessa," I said with false sincerity. She stared at me incredulously.

_How did he…?_

"Walk with me?" I suggested smoothly. She nodded, her thoughts smug, but she found it difficult to hold my gaze. I understood her nervousness even if she couldn't explain it to herself. My eyes resembled flat coals, black with hunger.

_Wait until I tell June who walked me home…_

I slid the tips of my fingers along the inside of her arm gently, smirking as I felt her shiver. My hands were like ice compared to hers. Her thoughts were incoherent.

"Do you usually walk home alone at night?" I asked conversationally as my fingers drifted along her palm.

"S—Sometimes," she stammered.

_Get a grip, Vanessa! He's just touching your hand…_

"Haven't you heard that the city is dangerous?" I pressed.

"Yeah," she slurred. "But I have my pepper spray."

"That's okay then," I smirked, mentally rolling my eyes. My fingers closed around her hand suddenly and I twirled her around to face me, ignoring how she stumbled ungracefully.

"Whoa!" she complained.

"Ssh." I ducked my head and pressed my lips to hers. It was revolting, hearing her sigh against my mouth. Her breath reeked of alcohol and her lips were chapped, unsmooth — hadn't she ever heard of _lip balm?_

I moved my lips to her neck, ignoring how her hands reached to hold my shoulders and she pressed herself closer. I slid my hand across her shoulder, gently pushing her hair back from her neck as a lover would before he kissed her.

Venom pooled in my mouth, the thirst burned in my throat as I inhaled the scent of her blood, beyond the smell of her putrid perfume. My smirk widened, my teeth grazed her neck and she moaned.

My lips kissed her skin gently, and then my teeth sunk into her jugular vein… and every nerve within my body melted with heat. I couldn't stop myself now. Her strangled cry echoed throughout the deserted street but it was already too late for this pathetic creature, her death sentence had already been signed.

The sweet, honeyed—flavor of her blood was incomparable. The hot, burning liquid infused my mouth with the sweetest relief, the feeling of absolute bliss exploding through my system, faster than adrenaline. Her screams died in her throat, her hands weak as they slumped against my shoulders. Her mind reeled in horror.

And I got a fucking high from it.

I fisted my hands in her hair and snapped her neck in half as easily as flicking my wrist. Slowly, I slid my tongue out and sucked every last drop I could from her body.

When she was drained, I licked her neck, sealing the wound. There was no trace of it on her skin now, she was just a sickly pale corpse in my arms. I dropped her on the steps outside of a nearby house, positioning her carefully to make it look like she had fallen from the roof above. If she was discovered, it would take a few hours before they figured out she had not fallen and broken her neck. It would give me time to get away from the street.

"Bye, Vanessa," I called softly, a lover's call, as I turned and sprinted into the shadows.

I slipped further north of the city, avoiding the street lights and passing traffic. I still felt hungry, though it was muted and it was easier to concentrate on choosing my next victim. I was in the mood to play.

I caught my reflection on the window of a parked car on the side of the road as I swept by it and smirked. My skin seemed almost flushed, my eyes a rich red color as they adjusted to my body's intake of blood.

It did not take long to hunt down my next victim. He was a do—gooder, the kind that nauseated me beyond reason with their annoyingly pure thoughts.

_… and poor Madge, falling like that… must ask Rita if she has a batch of her famous cookies to take to her, cheer her up…_

I shifted in the shadows, following the lone figure as he walked slowly up the streets, oblivious to my presence. I was going to have to drink bleach to burn the disgusting _goodness_ emanating from his head.

I moved closer, inhaling the scent of his blood in the cool night air. A—negative, my least favorite. Everything about this pathetic human repulsed me, and for that simple reason I wanted him to die.

Venom began to pool in my mouth and my muscles tensed in anticipation…

_EDWARD!_ Emmett's mental roar broke my concentration and I hissed in annoyance, startling the figure in front of me. His wide blue eyes grew wide in terror — he probably thought I was a street mugger or something. I sensed the direction his thoughts were taking and I hoped he didn't try any citizen arrest shit on me. The man had no idea how much trouble his "good citizen" attitude was going to get him in.

_Where are you, idiot? HUNTERS! _

I whirled. He wouldn't have seen me move, just that I had suddenly disappeared from his line of sight. I took to the roof, gliding up the wall as easily as I ran and sprinting across the concrete as I tried to pinpoint Emmett and Rosalie's locations by the tenor of their thoughts.

"Fucking hunters," I growled under my breath. Their origin could be traced back centuries, humans personally offended by vampires who took matters into their own hands, developing methods of killing their prey as efficiently as a fox trapped in a henhouse. At least, that's what they liked to think. More often than not, they ended up killing each other — most of them had never even seen a vampire for themselves. They had myths, legends to go on.

Occasionally, they would follow murder mysteries to the city but more often than not, they came away empty handed. We liked to play with them, messing with their heads while they tried to track us down. Their weapons were unimaginative — bullets could not penetrate our skin, arrows would not find purchase, holy water was ineffective…

Rosalie was nearly home. Safe. She was thinking of Emmett, hoping he hadn't stayed to taunt them.

Emmett was running a mile to my right, parallel to my path, his thoughts focused on a large green van that was speeding through the neighborhood, the squeals of the tires audible from where I was running. It was not a drunk driving the vehicle, the driver was very much in control.

There were three men in the van. I reached my scope out further, delving into their thoughts, and I winced as I accessed the mind of the man in the back of the van. He wanted to die, his whole body burned… the driver was intent on the road ahead of him. _Fucking bloodsuckers…_

I stiffened, coming to a complete stand—still.

It wasn't ordinary hunters this time. It was _them_.

My hands curled into fists as a sudden rage filled my entire body, my vision a blurred red. I was not thirsty, but there was nothing I wanted more than to sink my teeth into their veins and rip them apart, limb by limb…

"Emmett, get out of here!" I yelled.

_Spoil sport_, he answered grouchily, flipping his finger up at me as he swerved to the right, heading back towards Rosalie. But already his interest was wavering. He was instead thinking of a game Rosalie had suggested they play, one I didn't want the details to. I hissed, hoping he heard.

When I heard his chuckle in the distance, I knew he had.

"Your heart betrays you," I hissed suddenly, my voice like acid.

He was fast, silent… but he was human. I whirled, only to find the barrel of a cold metal gun pressed against my forehead. His heart thumped evenly in his chest; he was not afraid of me.

It had been a long time. His jet black hair had grown longer — was now tied in a loose elastic band behind his head. His body had hardened, his coal black eyes boring into mine with hatred. The feeling was mutual — I had hoped never to see this particular human again, or to at least have the chance to kill him myself. I wanted to see him suffer, to see him literally fall apart in agony.

"Long time, no see," I sneered.

"Fucking shut up, _leech_," he growled. His voice was low, gravelly now. Not squeaky, like I remembered. He had been fourteen the last time we had met, now he was… twenty?

"This —" I reached up, bending the nozzle on the gun as he fired, so the bullet ricocheted off my shoulder and landed on the ground. "—won't hurt me," I finished.

"No," he agreed, "but this will."

He hadn't even considered what he was doing in his mind — he knew my ability well, and so I was unprepared when he flung an open bottle at me.

I flinched as the liquid hit me, burning into my skin so fast I had no time to react before it felt like my flesh had erupted into hot flames, licking potently at my forearms and my collar where my jacket was open. I hissed in pain, clenching my fists in agony as the man pulled out another bottle, another identical maroon colored bottle. The smell of rotting flesh emanated from the liquid on my skin, and I froze in complete horror.

Dead Man's Blood.

There were only two ways to kill a vampire. One, you ripped apart their bodies and burned every last piece.

The second was a lethal injection of Dead Man's Blood. On the outside, it burned the skin for hours. On the inside, it burned it's way out until there was nothing left.

I could not fight him off and fight off the burning at the same time. I whirled from the roof, disappearing from his line of sight as I fled, my anger almost as strong as the agony my skin was in.

"I'll kill you," I promised, appearing behind him for one split second. "I will find your weakness, and I _will_ kill you."

His thoughts wavered and even though it was only for a second, I caught a glimpse of something he didn't want me to see. A girl. A blurred, out of focus image of a girl I did not think I recognized.

"You can try," he called after me.

I did not look back as I sprinted as far as I could from him, using my anger as a distraction from the blinding agony of the poison.


	2. Shades of Grey

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
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**2. SHADES OF GREY  
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**B.  
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For what felt like the millionth time, I readjusted my position on the worn vinyl seat of the beat—up Chevy truck and winced as my sore muscles protested. A few hours ago I had switched on the overhead light and taken out my tattered copy of _Pride & Prejudice_, flipping through the pages as if I didn't already know most of it by heart.

I had only been in Port Angeles a few weeks — Charlie, my father, had relocated here with Billy Black, following a lead from an old friend. I first came to live with my dad in Forks when I was seventeen — two years ago now — when my mother, Renée, married her boyfriend Phil Dwyer, a minor league baseball player. I had no problem with Phil, though he was more like a brother than a stepfather, but Renée had had to stay at home with me while Phil toured and it made her unhappy. I decided that I needed quality time with Charlie, which was when my life began to mean more than just… _surviving_. It was as if I hadn't known what I was missing until I had it.

_Jacob_.

My lips curved in a small smile. Something about us had just _clicked_ — we understood each other, we could talk for hours and never run out of things to say… we finished each other's sentences. I had known what I was getting into when Jake kissed me for the first time, had told me he wanted more. I knew that Jake was damaged and angry… but I loved him.

Somehow, I had become a part of his fight. It had begun with Charlie. People down at the Quileute reservation thought that Billy had gone a little crazy after his wife, Sarah Black died. The official report just stated that she was brutally attacked, but no culprit had ever been found. Slowly, I began to notice a change in his conversations with Charlie. Billy had been hanging out with a different crowd for a few years, had garnered information behind the scenes of his wife's death, and he was determined to get Charlie involved. Charlie was a cop, Charlie had connections — and when Charlie had been roped into believing in "bloodsuckers", suddenly Jake was determined to win me around.

Even now, with irrefutable evidence, I wanted Jake to stop. He was so consumed by rage and by hatred that it was slowly but surely swallowing him whole. But he wouldn't listen to me — he never listened to me when it came to them.

The _vampires_.

I winced at the word. I had never actually seen a vampire before, and I was… curious. Jacob described them as cold, heartless creatures and perhaps they were, but was it truly their fault? They were cursed, forced to drink the blood of humans to survive.

I glanced down at the vial beside me on the seat. It stood out starkly against the faded grey, a maroon colored bottle that made me cringe when I thought about using it. It was for my _protection_, Jacob had told me. I had still had my doubts that I would ever need to use it.

The driver's door suddenly heaved open and I jumped, my book falling out of my lap and onto the floor.

"Jesus, Jake!" I complained.

He cocked one brow at me, but didn't reply. He reached for my book and threw it down onto my lap as he climbed into the truck and slammed the door with unnecessary vigor.

He was pissed.

He put the truck in gear and pulled out of our inconspicuous parking space, trying in vain to push it beyond 60 miles per hour. Instead, the vehicle just squealed and protested.

I bit my lip and stared out of the window, waiting for him to say something. I had learned that trying to get him to talk to me would be futile — he was becoming increasingly irritable as our stay in Port Angeles drew on. I sighed and began to flip through my novel again.

Eventually, he broke the silence.

"You're reading that shit again?" He didn't look at me as he said it, concentrating on the road.

"I like it," I said defensively.

"If you spent as much time studying as you did reading you might have gotten into college," he said harshly.

"I didn't apply," I responded quietly, frowning. "Jake, why are you taking this out on me?"

"I'm not taking anything out on you," he growled. "I just don't know why you're pissing your life away."

"You _asked_ me to come here with you," I pointed out. I stared at him, willing him to look at me. What had gotten into him lately?

He sneered at me. "So this is _my_ fault?"

"No, Jake!" I raked my fingers through my hair in frustration. "Jake, what's going on?"

"It's _him_," he said abruptly, his voice rough. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw tight with strain. I didn't understand what he meant, but I didn't want to know. I had never wished more, in that moment, that Jake hadn't gotten involved in all of this. I hated Billy for encouraging him, for letting him believe that hunting down these… _vampires_… was going to take the pain and the anger away. I knew it wouldn't — if anything it would make it worse, but Jake wouldn't listen to me.

He sighed quietly. "I'm sorry, Bella."

I nodded, staring out the window. He slid his hand into mine and squeezed gently. I squeezed back, wishing that it could always be like this.

We didn't talk for the rest of the drive back to Charlie's house. Billy was renting an apartment a few blocks up the road but Charlie had secured a more pleasant, comfortable house for us to live in. It was the kind of house I had always imagined growing up in, with a neat garden and relatively close neighbors.

Jacob knocked off the engine and I slid out of the truck, fishing out my keys. I dropped them as I fumbled for the right key and as I bent back up with them in my hand, I banged my head off the side mirror on the door of the truck.

"Ow!" I moaned, rubbing my head gently as Jake snorted.

I glared at him, but it was impossible to stay mad at him because he was smiling now.

"Asshole," I muttered as I passed him and shoved the key into the door. He chuckled behind me.

We were the first back. I stepped inside, flicking on lights as I went while Jacob flung himself down on the sofa in the living room, flipping through the channels on the satellite television set. I went into the kitchen and rooted through the presses for something to cook. I wasn't hungry, but there wasn't much else that distracted me around the house while I waited for Billy and Charlie to return from their hunting trip.

I threw on some chicken and set the timer on the oven, my fingers drumming impatiently on the countertop as I tried to think of something else to do. I felt anxious. Would they make it back alright? Billy was well able to take care of himself, but Charlie…?

"You're giving me a headache!" Jacob called from the living—room.

I glared darkly at the door to the living room, but I stopped drumming my fingers.

I heard the van pull up outside the house and I was at the front door in a shot. Jacob followed behind me slowly, his brow knitted in a frown as Charlie and Billy did not immediately come in. Instead, they went around the back of the van and opened the back doors.

"A little help, Jake," Billy asked pointedly, his head poking out from behind the vehicle.

"Sure." Jacob jogged down the drive and cocked his head around the door, a low whistle escaping his mouth. It took all three of them to lift a man out of the back of the van, mostly because he kept struggling against them. His cries of agony were muted by the gag on his mouth, and his skin and clothes were soaked with sweat. They carried him into the house and laid him down on the kitchen table, murmuring in low voices to one another.

I ignored them mostly, trying not to cringe every time the man forced out a muffled cry behind the gag. The chicken was nearly done. I started buttering sandwiches methodically to block out the sound of the man's screams, concentrating on a particular patterns to stop myself from going crazy.

"Bella!" Jacob's hand stilled mine, but when I glanced up at him, his face was hard. "Do you see what they do? Do you think that I'm wasting my time hunting down cold—blooded killers _now_?"

My gaze flickered between him and the man on the table. He was so pale now, his body bathed in sweat and blood. A jagged scar stretched down the length of his neck and it had been badly stitched shut. Despite the fact that it should have been inflamed, the scar was a shade paler than the rest of his body. He seemed different to how I had first seen him. It was something intangible, beyond the sweat and the pale hue of his skin. Like his entire body frame had been subtly altered, become more balanced. He was almost… beautiful.

"He's been injected with venom," Charlie said quietly.

My eyes flickered over the man's face and his gaze caught mine, a silently pleading with me. He was absolutely terrified of what was happening to him, and I could only stare helplessly back. He was changing, I realized. Becoming one of _them_.

"We can't leave him like this," I choked out. Was there a way to save him from his fate?

"I agree," Jake added. I turned to smile at him, glad that he was listening to me, but he was staring at Billy with a hard expression. "If we leave him here, in two days he'll kill us all."

"Where will you take him?" I asked, confused.

"We're not taking him anywhere, Bella," Billy answered, staring back at Jacob, his gaze resigned.

I gasped. "You — You _can't_, Jake!" My gaze flickered back towards the man lying on the table, his frightened gaze still focused entirely on me. He was innocent in all of this — he didn't deserve to die because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I felt the sudden urge to protect him and I turned to glare at Jacob.

"Don't be difficult, Bella," he warned.

"_Difficult_? You're going to fucking kill him!"

"Think of how many people _he's_ going to kill, Bella — are you going to sign _their_ death sentence?" Jacob retorted harshly.

"This isn't… _right_," I moaned. I knew that Jacob had a point — the man's death sentence had been signed from the moment the vampire's lips had touched his neck. Billy and Charlie's interference had only slowed the inevitable.

"It's not black and white anymore, Bells," Jake sighed. I glanced around at their faces, realizing that they had already made up their minds. Silently, Billy opened the drawer of the dresser where Charlie kept the spare gun and pulled the safety catch. He passed it to Jacob who disappeared into the living room for a few moments and came back with the scruffiest cushion he could find. He positioned the cushion over the man's head, ignoring the increasing panic in the man's scream.

My gut twisted in guilt and pain. I brushed away the tears that begun to fall from my eyes and I leaned against Charlie, burying my head in his shoulder. I didn't want to watch this man die at the hands of my boyfriend.

There was a quiet shuffling noise and then a muted bang as the cushion muffled the noise of the gun. I choked back a sob. Charlie wrapped his arms around me awkwardly, patting my head, but his hand shook heavily.

I wished for Forks when everything had been simple, black and white. I wouldn't have to believe that Jacob was capable of killing anybody — or any_thing_ — and I could live in blissful ignorance. Did Jacob still resemble the boy I fell in love with? Tonight, I didn't think he did.

Billy and Jacob carried the man's cold body out to the van while I poured bleach on the table and scrubbed hard on the blood stains that had spattered the furniture. I threw out the chicken and the sandwiches because every one of us had lost our appetite.

At 4a.m., Billy decided that it was time for them to leave. I didn't know what they were going to do with the body, nor did I want to know. Billy headed out to the van while I followed Jake out onto the porch.

He towered over me and his face softened as he took in my weary expression. He slipped the keys to the Chevy into my hand, and then he ducked his head, pressing his lips to mine.

His mouth was soft, warm. His kiss made me feel guilty for thinking that it wasn't _him_, he still made me feel safe, comfortable. He stepped back, kissing my forehead gently before he whirled around and strode down the driveway toward the van.

I slunk upstairs to my bedroom, listening as Charlie moved around the house turning off the lights before he went to bed himself, closing his bedroom door with a quiet click.

I knew if I slept, I would have nightmares. Instead, I slipped across the hall and into the spare room, the room that Charlie had set up for me. Paper was scattered in odd piles over the timber floor, paintbrushes strewn over the high table below the window and paint stacked in neat columns in the corner. I took up a pallet and prepared a few colors absentmindedly. Yesterday, I had set up a canvas that covered the entire length of the wall facing my bed in my bedroom. It was still completely blank.

I perched on a stool, my pallet and paintbrush in hand as I stared at the blank canvas. But that was all I felt. Blank. I didn't have any sudden inspirations, no image I particularly wanted to imprint on paper. I remained in the exact same position for hours, barely noticing as the sky began to lighten and dawn crept along the timber floor, touching my skin in a soft glow.

When I heard Charlie shuffling around in his room, my brow dipped in a slight frown.

For the first time in nineteen years, I had stared at a blank surface and had done absolutely nothing.

Maybe that was the problem. I'd done nothing.

And now a man was dead.


	3. Rendezvous

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
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**3. RENDEZVOUS  
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**B.  
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I briefly considered calling in sick the next morning but that would mean I'd be stuck in the house for hours, my mind still whirling from last night. Instead, I climbed into the shower and let the warm water wake me up a little.

Charlie had already left for the station by the time I hauled myself downstairs and I left the house on foot, stopping at a Starbucks for coffee on my way.

I worked in a place called Newtons' Olympic Outfitters on the outskirts of town that catered to various hikers and campers that happened upon the city. It was run by a relatively nice family, the Newtons, who had been kind enough to offer me the job despite my lack of work experience. I supposed this constituted as pissing my life away in Jacob's eyes, but it was a job that paid well enough and I needed the money for art equipment. The only downside to working at the Newton shop, particularly on a Saturday, was their generic seventeen year old son, Mike, and his two friends, Tyler Crowley and Eric Yorkie. On weekdays, I could handle it. I only had to put up with him for about two hours before the shop closed and then I was free to leave. On Saturdays… he was there _all day_. And today was Saturday.

When I arrived, Mike bounded over to the door to let me in, twisting the closed sign around so the shop was now officially open. He had gelled his hair today, a trick he'd learned from his friends at school as a way to pick up girls. He had been doing that a lot lately, gelling his blond hair, wearing tight, open collared shirts and jeans and I even overheard his mother telling her neighbor on the phone that he had joined the local gym. It wasn't hard to see where his style ideas were derived from… the only thing missing was the wife beater and button—less shirts and he would be a perfect Jacob—wannabe.

"Hey, Bella," he grinned, reaching for my coat before I could stop him. He pulled it from my arms, and hung it up on the coat stand inside the door.

"Hi, Mike," I said politely.

"Today's going to be an easy day," he informed me. "Tyler and Eric are coming over to help."

I mentally groaned. "That's nice," I said carefully.

The bell over the door tinkled and the first customer of the morning strode in, whistling softly as he moved along the shelves. Mike chose that moment to be gallant and went off to help him find what he was looking for, giving me a chance to settle myself behind the counter. Mike believed me incapable of lifting anything remotely heavy and had almost permanently assigned me on register duty where I sat on a high stool and proceeded to read through my tattered classic collection while the customers browsed.

Today it was _Sense & Sensibility._

Around noon, Mike's friends arrived, still hung over from an "epic" party they'd been at last night. They had, of course, invited me but the idea of surrounding myself with horny seventeen year old boys was oddly unappealing. At least, it was odd to other girls my age.

"Hey, Bella!" Tyler grinned, waving to me as he headed toward Mike, who was stacking boxes at the back of the shop. He, like Mike, had gelled his hair up to astronomical proportions and had even rolled his shirt sleeves up past his elbow to show off the new strength in his biceps. I thought it would be mean to tell him that I didn't notice the different after two weeks, but it was honestly true.

Eric Yorkie trailed behind the other two, more like a shadow. I actually felt sorry for him a little. He would have been cute if his face wasn't riddled with acne and he didn't have to wear thick, black—framed glasses that kept sliding down his nose. I also knew he was asthmatic because every so often he would pull out an inhaler and take a deep gulp.

"Your hair looks nice today," he said shyly as he passed me, offering a small smile. I smiled back at him, because he was sweet despite the fact that he regularly stared at my chest when he thought I wasn't looking. Or when Mike wasn't looking because Mike liked to bully him into thinking that _he_ was the one who was going to… _get_ me, whatever that meant. Jacob seemed to have no bearing. Well, when he wasn't there, that is.

I bent my head and continued reading while they whispered amongst themselves at the bottom of the shop, mostly about the party last night. Apparently, Mike was boasting about sleeping with a girl — Jessica, I think — that went to their school, and who had had a crush on him for ages. He thought I couldn't hear so he went into every single thorny detail about their unnaturally perfect night together. He swore he made her come at least three times before she begged him to stop because he was ruining her for anyone else.

I couldn't help it; I snorted.

Eric didn't seem to find this ridiculous at all — he was hanging on Mike's every word with complete awe. When Tyler started to show Mike down by boasting about _his_ conquests… I cleared my throat loudly.

"You have a customer, Mike," I said loudly, just as the door of the shop swung open. It was two men, chatting to each other as they shuffled through the fishing aisles, pointing toward different rods.

Mike hurried to their side, pasting a professional grin on his face. "May I help you?"

"Yeah, we're looking for a fibreglass spinning rod…"

As Mike directed them down the correct aisle, Eric and Tyler came to stand with me.

"You missed an epic party last night, Bella," Tyler told me as he reached for one of the hooks we kept on display beside the till. He fiddled with it absentmindedly while he watched me, a lazy smile on his face.

"So I heard," I answered.

"I guess you heard Mike, huh?" he chuckled.

I smiled awkwardly. "I wasn't supposed to?"

Both Tyler and Eric laughed, while Tyler leaned in a little closer.

"I don't even think Jessica was _at_ the party," he divulged, grinning madly. Eric nodded his head in agreement, his glasses hopping awkwardly on the bridge of his nose. He pushed them up impatiently.

I didn't like hearing them slander Mike for my benefit. As if eliminating Mike from the equation would mean that they would have a better chance at… whatever they wanted with me. I guessed that they were too young to understand the concept of love, or the connection I felt with Jacob. I would never be unfaithful. I didn't even really know what attraction I held for them. Maybe it was because I was two years older, seemingly more mature. I wasn't exceptionally pretty. I was quite the opposite — plain, uninteresting. I had long, dark brown hair that fell to my shoulders and brown eyes. I resembled my mother more so than my father, but my mother wore make—up and kept up with fashionable styles that made her appear interesting and flirty. I was not curvy like her, nor was I exceptionally tall. I was just… average. A normal, average girl.

I was dying to get away from the pair of them, and I noticed my chance when Mike knocked the shelf with one of the rods he was showing the two customers and a small box slipped on the other side. Eric and Tyler hadn't noticed, they were still discussing what shit Mike had been telling them, and about how Tyler had really actually been with some girl called Angela, whom everyone thought was an uptight virgin.

I hopped off the stool and hurried towards the shelf, but me being me, my foot slipped on the floor and I went flying. I landed with a thump on my back, staring up at the ceiling with a scowl on my face.

"I was wondering when I'd get you on your back," Mike joked, appearing above me. I cringed away from the innuendo in his voice. Like that was _ever_ going to happen. He reached out his hand and I had no choice but to clasp it if I had any chance of getting up off the floor soon. His palm was hot and sweaty — _ew_! — and I winced as he gripped my hand a little too tightly. The bell over the door tinkled again, announcing another customer and Mike looked up suddenly.

"Bella?"

He dropped me. He uncurled his fingers from my hand faster than I'd ever seen him move, and I was sent sprawling back onto the floor as my boyfriend strode into the shop, towering almost a foot over Mike.

He was glaring at Mike as he bent down and scooped me up one handed, his arms gentle despite his obvious strength. I doubted Jake had ever been to a gym in his life.

"S—Sorry, Bella," Mike muttered, glancing at me quickly before flicking his wary gaze back to Jake.

"You'd better be," Jacob growled. He set me down on my feet again but didn't let go of my hand. My eyes searched his face as he berated Newton and I could see that his frown was still marred by irritation lines. He hadn't calmed down one iota since yesterday, I realized with a soft sigh.

Mike was more nervous than usual around Jake, possibly reacting to his irritable mood. He slunk away to where Tyler and Eric were watching the exchange, a little wide eyed. I knew Jake hated having me work here, and it was more than just about pissing my life away. He hated seeing Mike drool over me. It was irrational — he knew that I would have no interest in a generic seventeen year old boy, but that didn't matter. It wasn't _me_ he didn't trust.

Jake turned to me then, his scowl slipping a little.

"Do you want to get lunch together?" he offered.

I nodded. I retrieved my coat from the coat stand inside the door where Mike had left it and followed Jacob outside into the cool afternoon air. It was a typical overcast day, dreary and dull. Jacob caught my hand as we walked silently down the footpath.

We chose a quiet restaurant a few blocks away from Newtons' and we settled into a booth at the back of the restaurant while he continued to hold my hand across the table. I smiled at him, and he managed a weak smile back. The stress lines on his face did not subside.

"Are you okay, Jake?" I asked quietly.

He cocked one brow at me. I shrugged, rubbing my forehead absentmindedly with my free hand. I was worried about him and I wished that he would open up to me, but I knew that he didn't want to. This was going to be a difficult conversation.

"What… what happened last night? With the man, I mean?" I stared at him wearily, needing to understand. I was a little lost in this situation, and I needed to know that he was still _Jake_ underneath all this anger and hate.

"He was infected, what more do you need to know?" Jacob replied abruptly.

"Why was he in the back of Billy's van?"

"Billy was tracking a bloodsucker down one of the back alleys and he found him with his teeth already buried in the neck of man on the side of the road. Billy thought that he could help him because Billy doesn't know how the venom works," Jacob explained, his voice condescending. I winced, trying not to imagine the scene that Billy and Charlie had stumbled upon. The state of the man's neck last night was evidence enough.

"And you do?" I pressed.

Jake sneered at me. "I know enough to know that once their teeth get anywhere near you, you're as good as dead."

I flinched.

"May I take your order?"

We both glanced up at the tall, pretty waitress. She smiled pleasantly, her pen poised on the pad.

"Um, mushroom ravioli," I said quickly, ordering the first item I saw on the menu.

"Same," Jacob agreed.

"And to drink?"

"Just water," I told her. She nodded and scribbled the order on her pad before disappearing back into the kitchen.

I turned back to Jacob, my fingers drumming anxiously on the table. He stilled my hand almost immediately, his frown tightening.

"Stop that, it drives me mad."

I complied silently.

"Jake… why won't you tell me what's really going on? I've never seen you so… angry." I silently pleaded with him to open up to me like he used to. I knew him inside out, every sordid detail of his life in Forks before his mother died. Whatever it was that was eating him alive, I could handle it, I was sure. I loved him, I could deal with the rest.

"There's nothing to tell." His voice was stiff, distant.

"Right," I answered sardonically. I was close to tears, but my anger overrode my tear ducts because I was determined not to seem weak in front of him. I didn't want him to feel guilty — what kind of guy made his girlfriend cry?

"Bella, can you just drop this?" he said tiredly.

"Drop what?" I pressed. "I have no idea what I'm talking about because you won't _tell_ me what's going on!"

"Because it's none of your business!" he retorted stonily.

I stopped short, snapping my mouth shut. I couldn't stop the moisture that pooled in my eyes as I fought the urge to walk out on him. I couldn't walk away because I loved him and I needed him to know that… but sometimes _I_ needed to know that too.

"I thought we could tell each other everything," I said in a small voice.

Jake groaned, his face softening as he took both my hands in his. "I can't… I can't involve you in this, Bells. I don't want you to get hurt."

I nodded, blinking away my tears impatiently. I hated crying in front of Jacob. He didn't deserve to see me upset, his life was hard enough as it was. The waitress arrived back with our meal and Jake released my hands so he could eat his food. I went to the bathroom to clean up my face, and when I came back he smiled at me. It wasn't a full, happy smile but it was a smile nonetheless. We ate our meals in silence and we split the bill because Jacob knew how irritated I got when he tried to pay for everything. He even managed to make his "I'm a gentleman" speech afterwards, just for my benefit. I started to feel better because he became the _old_ Jacob again. We walked back to Newtons' hand in hand, and I began to feel optimistic for the first time that weekend.

Tyler and Eric were still there when we arrived inside, chatting to each other while Mike was describing the benefits of owning a mini—fridge to a small, scrawny girl who looked like she would have rather been talking to a tree.

"See you later?" I asked Jacob quietly. He glanced over my shoulder, his frown reappearing for a moment as he nodded.

Suddenly, he grabbed me, his fingers driving through my hair as he secured his lips to mine. It wasn't how we usually kissed — his tongue delved into my mouth roughly and startled, I could only wait until he finished his assault on my face. It might have been nicer if I had been prepared for it, but as it was, all I felt was embarrassed and uncomfortable because Mike and his friends were watching.

When Jacob finally let go, I stumbled away awkwardly.

"What was that about?" I demanded lowly.

"Just marking my territory," he muttered, turning and striding out of the shop before I could formulate an outraged reply. Sometimes Jake could be a complete and utter idiot.

* * *

**E.  
**

My fingers caressed the ivory keys in reverence, weaving a morose melody around the darkening room that seemed to have no beginning and no end. Every key I touched was a resounding reminder that I had destroyed my past and had no future.

On the floor below, I could hear Rosalie methodically brushing a comb through her silvery blonde hair. She was annoyed at her sudden melancholy, blaming it on the melody I had created with absentminded grace.

Emmett was flicking through the sports channels while he considered going out into the mountains soon for some decent exercise. The pretense of being human was wearing on him.

Bored, my fingers shifted direction and I launched into a darker, creepier version of a deplorable pop song that had been constantly playing on the radio over the last few weeks. I even rearranged the lyrics of the song so that what had once been a sweet longing for a lover became an anthem for bitchy whores. My lips curved into a smile as I considered dedicating the composition to Vanessa.

"Jeez, Edward, you do tend to lay it on thick, don't you?" Rosalie scowled, appearing in the doorway, comb in hand. She leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms delicately. She glanced around, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh. It's like a bat cave in here."

Huh. I'd never thought of it that way. I just preferred darkness. The walls of my room were a deep black. A dark mahogany bookcase was pressed up against the back wall with rows upon rows of vinyl records stacked on every shelf, in order of year, and then preference within that year. My grand piano was under the small window, the only source of light in the room. There was a bed opposite the bookcase, decked out in black and red satin sheets, though it remained untouched. I did not sleep.

My fingers stilled on the piano and I stared at her expectantly.

I had rolled the sleeves of my black shirt up to my elbow while I played, and her eyes fixated on the purplish bruises that colored the skin on my forearms. They were not as dark as they had been, and barely stung anymore.

_Ouch_, she smirked.

"Are you here for a reason or do you just want to admire my body?" I asked sardonically. My fingers started up on the piano again, working through a soft version of _Fur Elise_.

I knew what she was going to say before she said it, but I guess she liked hearing the sound of her own voice.

"Emmett and I were heading down to _Scarlet_, if you want to come?"

I glanced up at her, grinning. "She asked for me personally?"

"Edward, she _always_ asks for you personally." Rosalie rolled her eyes. "We're leaving soon."

She swung around, her mind cycling through various outfits she wanted to wear out, but as she left the room her mind whirled suddenly. _Try to hide the bruises, won't you_?

"I think they're sexy," I called after her, smirking. "I _did_ survive a hunter attack, after all."

She mentally flipped her middle finger at me.

I threw on a pair of dark jeans and another black shirt, ignoring Rosalie's warning about the bruises as I rolled up the sleeves and opened the top button of my collar. I considered myself in the mirror that hung from my closet door, eying the dark, forbidding glow of my crimson colored eyes. I would have to wear contacts, I thought in annoyance. I raked my fingers through my already disheveled bronze hair and opened the closet door, rooting through a shoe box on a shelf above my clothes for spare contact lenses. Green would do for tonight. I fitted them into my eyes, ignoring the scratches on the lens from years of practice and headed downstairs to wait on Rosalie.

When Rosalie said they were leaving _soon_, it usually meant a couple of hours. Emmett was strewn over the sofa, occasionally cursing impatiently, but I remained impassive. After all, I did have a private peep show as Rosalie admired every outfit that draped over her elegant figure in the mirror. Emmett would have killed me had he known the direction of my thoughts — or rather my insight into the direction of _Rosalie's_ thoughts — but that was the beauty of being a mind—reader. I could see what no man could see in the privacy of my own head, in insanely accurate detail.

When Rosalie finally arrived downstairs in a tight denim skirt and blue halter neck top, Emmett huffed and dragged himself off the sofa, his annoyance dissipating as soon as he noticed what she was wearing. He was practically salivating watching her, and I shut off my mind like a wrecking ball to block the disgusting ideas that popped into his head.

As Rosalie passed, I leaned in close enough to whisper, "I preferred the red dress," and she rolled her eyes, muttering, "Pervert."

I smirked and followed her outside, even checking out her ass as she climbed into the driver's seat of her shiny red BMW. Under no circumstances were Emmett and I ever allowed to drive her "baby".

I climbed into the back seat and listened to their monotonous conversation about car mechanics for the whole ten minutes it took to get downtown. Traffic was heavy as it was still early enough in the evening and Rosalie's fingers began to drum on the steering wheel impatiently. She preferred to break every speeding law known to man at every opportunity.

Rosalie maneuvered the car into a tricky space on the corner of the street, winking at Emmett as he exhaled. I rolled my eyes — who cared about a fucking _car?_ We could _walk_ faster than the block of metal.

I climbed out of the back seat and stared up at the old, sturdy building ahead of us. On the outside, it looked like an old—fashioned theater, with black and white banners and a blinking neon sign proclaiming the name "Scarlet". There was already a crowd waiting outside, some rubbing their arms coldly in their skimpy clothes. _Idiots_.

Rosalie strode straight up to the bouncer, winking at him, and he immediately let her pass, ignoring the collective moan that came from the crowd waiting outside. I distinctly heard someone mutter, "Stupid blonde bitch", and I chuckled, shaking my head in amusement.

We followed Rosalie into the dark, smoky nightclub. The entire room pulsed with a heady mix of sultry music and erratic heartbeats. The floor was almost full as bodies writhed on each other, each mind focused on one thing: _sex_.

The bar, too, was overflowing with males. Over the babble of people, I caught the tones of three very distinct, musical, soprano—like voices. My lips curved into a half smile. I weaved through the crowd, gently disengaging every sweaty, warm hand that latched onto my forearm and ignoring every lustful thought that surrounded my own face. When I reached the bar, I automatically found a place on a stool as the crowd moved unconsciously away from me. They did not understand their aversion, it only saved me from having to resort to mild violence.

"Hmm, I knew you'd come," she smiled, twirling gracefully over to my stool, her full lips widening into an excited grin. Her curly, strawberry blonde hair swirled around her shoulders and her temporarily blue eyes brightened as my smile widened.

"How could I refuse, Tanya?" I murmured. "You did ask for me personally." She laughed, arranging a cosmopolitan absentmindedly while she picked out orders from the crowd. It was far easier for her than for a lot of the other barmaids, considering her hearing was impeccable. I watched her work for a little while, acknowledging her flirtatious smiles as she worked toward her break. I'd known her since I arrived in Port Angeles a few years ago. She had once been part of a coven in Alaska, the Denali coven, famous for their renouncing of human blood. Their eyes were the most alarming color of butterscotch, and their way of life nauseated me. It was like they were denying what they truly were, choosing to live a life where they constantly went unsatisfied, living on the blood of animals to satisfy their control. Tanya had grown bored as I had as a recluse and come to Port Angeles in search of excitement. She had not completely renounced her sisters' way of life. Though she had broken away from them, she still followed some of their ideals. She was excruciatingly careful not to kill her victims. It meant she had to feed more times than Rosalie, Emmett or I would have to but it was what she was comfortable with, and I envied her control to stop. I could not imagine in a million years that I would ever learn such self—control. She had joined the second of three covens in Port Angeles who were not as successful as she with their victims. Senna and Sierra, originally hailing from Europe, were biological sisters as well as a coven. Twins, to be more exact. From the moment I had come into contact with them, every single one of Emmett's vivid fantasies about twins made absolute and utter sense.

Their skin was not as pale as mine, there was a darker olive tone to the chalky white and they both had exquisitely long, mahogany colored with subtle, natural blonde highlights. Along with Tanya, they were the sexiest barmaids in America, never mind Port Angeles.

Finally, Tanya, Senna and Sierra finished up at the bar while three others took their place for an hour or so, and we found an empty booth overlooking the dance floor on a raised platform with Emmett and Rosalie. Tanya climbed onto my lap while Sierra and Senna curled up on the sofa either side of me. Emmett glared at me jealously, and I smirked. As if to taunt him, I slowly trailed my fingers from Tanya's knee to the hem of her black dress. Her fingers raked through my hair and she grinned down at me, as if knowing what I was doing.

_Having fun?_ Her grin widened. In response, I hiked her skirt up further, the palm of my hand sliding along her thigh.

Emmett cleared his throat loudly. "So we just wanted to give you guys a heads up."

"About what?" Sierra asked in a low, serious voice. Tanya shifted on my lap, cocking her head at Emmett.

"Hunters," Rosalie explained. Senna snorted.

"We can handle hunters," Sierra scoffed.

"They have Dead Man's Blood with them this time. Someone has been talking, I reckon. But it has fallen into the wrong hands," I explained quietly.

Tanya gasped. "How the hell did they get their hands on _that_?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "It's not that difficult, Tanya. There are plenty of dead people to choose from."

Tanya made a face. "I know what Dead Man's Blood is. How did they get hold of the secret?"

I shrugged. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that they're using it."

"What? When?" Senna glanced around at the three of us before her gaze finally settled on me, her eyes wide with apprehension. "The bruises…"

I flexed my forearm under the neon lights, watching as the purplish bruises stood out starkly when the ghostly green disco light swerved in our direction. Tanya ran her fingers delicately over the darkened skin, her mouth pursed in agitation.

"Do you know who it is?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," I said stonily.

Her jaw tightened. "I'll kill him."

"No, you won't," I growled, my hands clenching into fists. "He's _mine_."

Sierra and Senna stared at me worriedly until Emmett finally broke the tension, grinning madly. "You don't need to go all homosexual on us, bro."

I rolled my eyes and the others laughed.

"Dance with me?" Rosalie pulled Emmett to his feet and they swept down onto to the dance floor, laughing with each other.

Sierra and Senna followed after them, blowing kisses at dumbstruck males who traced their movements with their lustful eyes, oblivious to the glares of their dancing partners, girlfriends and even wives.

Tanya asked me to dance but I refused, earning a cute pout from her full mouth.

"Let's go somewhere," I said instead, my voice low and husky. She nodded, her mouth curving in a slow, sultry smile as she took my hand and followed me behind the bar, and into the cool store room at the back. She twirled inside ahead of me and I trapped her up against the wall, pressing my lips to her throat.

"I missed you, it's been days," she murmured, raking her fingers through my hair. She tugged on it delicately, smiling against my face as I shivered, heat arcing through my body. I tilted her head back and pressed my lips gently to hers, teasing.

"Whatever would you do without me?" I grinned, my tongue snaking out to touch the corner of her mouth. She moaned, gripping my hair tighter in her fist. Her other hand ran down my chest, pressing against my stomach before they curled around the waistband of my jeans. "Or rather _who_ would you do?"

"You think you're so funny, don't you?" she muttered as continued to tease her lips. My fingers flirted with the hem of her dress, swirling the fabric around her legs as I avoided touching her myself. "Fucking God's gift to women —" She gasped, arching against me suddenly as I delved my tongue into her mouth at the same time that I clasped her thighs and lifted her flush against me. She moaned, dragging me even closer to her. She tasted like fresh blood, B Positive, I determined as I tangled my mouth with hers, relearning the recesses of her mouth. She tightened her grip around me with her thighs and I pulled the zipper down on the back of her dress, lifting it over her head. It fell to the floor somewhere behind me, and I went back to kissing her senseless.

I don't know why I'd started this… _liaison_. I'd met other attractive vampires before, some I'd slept with, played with… but I'd never continued to sleep with a girl beyond a few nights. I bored easily. I wondered if I was giving Tanya the wrong idea, continuing to meet with her like this. I certainly wasn't in love with her — I doubted I was ever truly capable of such an emotion — but was this becoming complicated for her?

She moaned against me, gripping my shoulders tightly and I pushed her further against the wall, ripping her pathetic excuse for panties in one swift move. I touched her, pressing my fingers gently against her entrance and she threw her head back, groaning my name. It gave me a fucking high listening as she ground out my name like a prayer. I smirked. Like I really _was_ God's gift to women.

I slid two fingers inside her silky, wet core, palming her clit as she writhed against me, her strawberry blonde curls spilling over her bare shoulders. She tugged on the zipper of my jeans and I kicked them off along with my boxers and thrust into her roughly before she had a chance to fully recover her balance. Her hands fisted in my hair, her lips soft on my face as I thrust against her with almost painful deliberation, only barely in control of the heat that arced through my system.

"Come for me, Tanya," I murmured against her hair, feeling her tighten around me as she drew closer to release. In one swift thrust I emptied myself inside her, feeling her clench tightly in a series of contractions as she moaned my name, her hands raking through my hair almost painfully.

I breathed deeply against her hair for a few moments before I eased away from her, collecting my clothes from the floor. She slipped her own dress back on, re—zipping the clasp without difficulty.

_Now you can dance with me_. She winked smugly, grasping my hand and I was assaulted abruptly by some _very_ vivid images of us grinding against each other on the dance floor. She twirled away from me, laughing and I rolled my eyes at her, following her out onto the dance floor like I was heading for a death sentence.

* * *

**B.  
**

For the second night in a row, I found myself perched on a stool, facing an annoyingly blank canvas. In the darkness, it almost seemed to glow in its purity. Something I could not relate to. I closed my eyes, letting my frustration over Jacob's mood swings wash through my system. I let the pain of watching a man die when there was nothing that could have saved him pulse through my body. I wanted to _do_ something to alleviate the feeling of utter helplessness that arced through my gut as my mind flickered through image upon image of the last two days.

Slowly, I rose from my stool and opened a can of undiluted paint. For every time I wanted Jacob to talk to me and he didn't, I splashed the canvas. For every time I wanted Jacob to stop what he was doing and he didn't, I splashed the canvas. For every time I wanted to Jake to listen to me and he didn't, I hurled the contents of the can at the canvas. I forced open another can and continued my assault on the canvas.

By the time dawn crept along the floorboards, my breathing was heavy and silent tears streamed down my face, dripping onto my spattered clothing.

The canvas was no longer blank, it was pure black.

My frustration, my pain, my anger… staring at me in the face. Was this what my life had come to?


	4. Deadly Weakness

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
**

* * *

**4. DEADLY WEAKNESS  
**

* * *

**E.  
**

I pulled the collar of my leather jacket stiff around my neck, my head bowed as I strode out into the street. There was no moon tonight; the entire sky was dark and bleak, heavy with pregnant clouds. It would rain soon, I knew. But as much as I loathed the rain, I was _starving_.

It had been three weeks since my last hunt. Two weeks of waning self control and one week of complete and utter agony. Who knew one could smell their neighbors blood type from _three blocks away_? It was only Rosalie who had kept them alive with her "keeping up appearances" speech. And so, I had been an oddly obedient boy for an agonizing seven days.

But now… I couldn't wait.

The thirst had inflamed my throat, a thick burning that only seemed to deepen with time. I was not in the mood for playing tonight. Rosalie, Emmett and I had taken care to hunt separately, avoiding the hunters as best we could. Their hunts had been uneventful… but it wasn't _them_ that Jacob Black wanted. My hands balled into fists, the pale blue veins on my arms rising starkly beneath my skin. The stupid human had no idea what he was doing. Who he was messing with. I'd kill him in a heartbeat if I hadn't already vowed to make him suffer. It may have been a silent promise to someone I had once known, but it was one I did not intend to break. The _only_ one.

Clenching my jaw tightly, I strode up the street, my hands in my pockets as I swept my mind across the surrounding area, careful to remain an inconspicuous figure, apparently making his way home. The inane conversations and thoughts emanating from surrounding houses irritated me beyond reason. Who _cared_ whether the cat had been fed? It was going to die anyway.

I decided to pay an old friend a visit. My thirst took a back seat as a smirk began to grow on my face, realizing I was close to his neighborhood. It was almost too easy when the plan began to formulate in my head. He had finally gotten around to asking Rita for a batch of her famous cookies and he was wrapping up the gift basket as I passed the bright red door, wincing at the perfect "glow" that seemed to radiate from the entire building. I picked his name out of his head.

_Doug_. What a perfect name for such a disgusting do—gooder.

I slipped past his house and walked three doors down, hunting down the person inside with my head.

_… getting late… should probably go to bed soon… leg starting to ache…_

I knocked sharply on the front door, rolling my eyes as I prepared a small, friendly smile. I was careful not to display too much of my pearly white teeth — humans found that intimidating.

I heard someone moving around inside, the woman's confusion infiltrating her thoughts as she went to answer the door, one foot hitting the floor harder than the other. _Who would be ringing the doorbell at _this_ hour?_

The latch clicked and the door pulled open.

I almost smirked. _Almost_. It seemed Doug wasn't as much a do—gooder as I'd thought. The woman answering the door was attractive for a human, with a tumble of black curls and high cheek bones that gave her the face of a model. She was a little on the small side, only reaching just above my shoulder. Her perfume wasn't as bad as the shit that some women covered themselves in… like Vanessa for instance.

_Oh my_, she thought, her jaw dropping a little.

"Hello. Madge, is it?" I asked in a low, velvety voice, barely concealing my amusement.

"Oh," she said, flustered. "My name is Madison. Madge makes me sound old."

_It really does_, I agreed silently. How misleading.

"Right," I said apologetically. "Sorry to disturb you so late, Madison, but my name is Edward Masen, I'm from the —"

_I wonder is he one of the new interns from the Health Clinic? I wouldn't mind getting another x—ray done if _he_ was there…_

"— Health Clinic," I finished, picking the name out of her thoughts.

_I wonder if Dr. Wade sent him? Was there something wrong with my…_

"Mr. Wade asked me to visit. He wanted to make sure that the medication he supplied was satisfactory," I explained, flashing her a dazzling smile. I heard her heart rate pick up, and faint color appeared on her cheeks. The thirst in the back of my throat flared suddenly and my fists clenched in the pockets of my jacket as I struggled not to jump on her. I just wanted a taste… just a little drop…

"Sure, come in." She stood back, opening the door wider. I stepped inside her warm, simply decorated house. She directed me toward her living room where she had a small fire going, and CNN on the television. She was watching a news clip on the death of a man found three days ago inside his car, without a single scratch on him. Coroners had identified earlier today that he had been drained of his blood.

I rolled my eyes. _Emmett_…

She leaned over the sofa, her sweater hitching over her back as she retrieved something from the floor next to the wall. I smirked, making myself comfortable on an opposite armchair while I enjoyed the view. It was a pity I was going to have to kill her.

"These are the tablets Dr. Wade prescribed," she told me as she straightened, handing me a small blue box with multi—colored tablets inside. I sniffed delicately, identifying them. A derivative of morphine, I guessed. I wasn't an expert on painkillers, but I was pretty sure.

I raised my eyebrows. She didn't seem pretty doped up. "To help you sleep?"

Her cheeks colored again, darker this time. "Yeah." _I wouldn't need them if I had _him_…_

They were all the same, human girls. Superficial. Imagining various little fantasies while they tried to focus on what I was actually saying. Sure, I was into the kind of shit but I was offended that they didn't want to hear what I was saying. I was an intelligent person. But chicks didn't dig that shit this century, apparently.

"And they're working okay?" I pressed. "No twinges, accidental numbness…?"

She shook her head. "They knock me out for hours."

_Know what else knocks me out? Jeez, get a hold of yourself woman! Like he'd answer that… ugh, I'm such a whore…_

I couldn't resist teasing her. "Have you tried alternative medicine? Non prescription, I mean. There are several relaxation methods I'm trained in that I could show you…" It was comical how incoherent her thoughts grew. Humans were too easy — one track minds, the instinct to procreate — they were so easy to manipulate that they sucked the fun out of living forever.

_…hope she likes these now… who am I kidding, they're Rita's?!_

I rolled my eyes as a timid knock came from the front door, and Madison's forehead knotted in a confused frown. _Who…?_

She smiled at me apologetically and I shrugged, settling myself back into the armchair. I didn't actually need to get comfortable — I could stand for weeks on end in the same position and still feel as comfortable as I was when I started — but I was so used to acting human, the reflex came naturally.

"Hello?" Madison opened the door slowly, leaning on her good leg.

_Thank God she's not asleep…_ Doug's thoughts were relieved.

"I brought you cookies," he said in a quiet, thoughtful voice. I saw him smile in her mind, and her automatic comparison to mine. Poor Doug fell sadly short. I smirked to myself — this was going to be interesting. It was like watching a movie in the cinema, only instead of eating popcorn, I'd be eating them instead.

"Oh," Madison answered awkwardly. "Thanks."

Doug was admiring her figure in her tight jog pants, his eyes lingering on the curve of her ass. It _was_ one fine piece of ass. If I wasn't so hungry, I'd consider having Rosalie change her. She'd be a fun playmate if I wasn't in danger of snapping her spine in half. I wouldn't even dream of attempting it myself — control was _not_ one of my areas of expertise.

"You look a lot better, tonight," he said, his scratchy voice attempting something more… alluring. "That fall must have been nasty."

"It was," Madison nodded. "I'm okay now, though."

"That's good," Doug nodded. He was getting impatient as he waited for her to invite him in, so he shivered deliberately.

"Oh," she glanced towards the living room awkwardly, where I was reclining in her armchair. "I, um, I kind of have a visitor."

I mouthed to her that it was okay, I was just going to leave and she glanced between us, her mind reeling in disappointment. _Oh, crap, how do I ask him to stay a little longer…? Fuck Doug, anyway. Cookies? Man does the guy know _ANYTHING_ about what a girl needs?_

Doug was practically pushing his way past her, so she had no choice but to step back and let him in, smiling politely through her annoyance. I was thoroughly enjoying myself now.

When he stepped into the living room, he stopped dead. I probably should have anticipated that he might recognize me, and by the sudden fear on his face, I guessed he did.

"What —?" He opened his mouth, but he couldn't force anything else out. His gaze flickered toward Madison who had strode inside past him, curling up on her sofa, and his thoughts became protective.

_Who the hell does he think he is? If he's touched her…_

"I'm sorry," Madison said, suddenly flustered again. "Do either of you want anything to eat? Drink?"

_Now that you mention it…_ I grinned again, rising slowly to my feet. "I should probably be going…"

"You don't have to —" Madison began.

"Good riddance," Doug muttered under his breath, thinking I couldn't hear.

Rolling my eyes, my hand reached out as I passed him, and though it seemed as if I just brushed off him, he cried out, his shoulder dislocating with a harsh crack.

Madison paled. "Doug?"

"Christ, you are _annoying_," I said, rounding on him. The yellowed light from the overhead light glittered oddly in my black eyes, I noticed, as my reflection loomed in his gaze. His heart started to race as he panicked, and Madison was backing away from me slowly, her thoughts intent on grabbing the phone before I realized what she was doing.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said in a soft, velvety voice as her fingers closed over the receiver.

Doug moved between her and me, clutching his shoulder awkwardly.

"Don't you _dare_ touch her," he growled.

"Or _what_?" My eyes flashed dangerously.

Annoyed, I lifted my hand and slapped him, listening as a resounding splintering sound echoed in the sudden silence. Doug seemed to teeter on his feet for one moment before his eyes rolled back in his head and I could smell the blood pooling in his mouth. He fell to the floor, his neck twisted at an awkward angle. It was too much when his mouth fell open. His pulse no longer thumped in his chest, rapid like Madison's suddenly was. She was frozen, her mouth pursed in a wide "O" as she stared at Doug's lifeless form.

I yanked him against me in one quick, swift movement and my teeth pierced his skin with impatience as I sought out my nourishment.

I'd had better. It was like comparing honey to a lemon, sweet and sour. His was disgusting, but his blood was still warm, free from decay. That was the difference between Dead Man's Blood and the blood that flowed from this man's veins and onto my tongue. Dead Man's Blood only became poisonous when a body had begun to decompose, becoming infiltrated with microscopic bacteria. I gulped down every last drop, my concentration only partly focused on Madison's thoughts as she grappled with coherency. Her shock was deep, I had time to clean up my operation. Gently, I ran the tip of my tongue over Doug's neck, sealing the sickly pale skin.

When I was finished, I tossed him down onto the armchair I had vacated only moments ago, and focused my attention on Madison.

She was shaking, her usually tanned skin an unnaturally pale color.

"What… _are_ you?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"I'm your worst nightmare, _darling_," I smirked, looming over her. Her hand fell from the receiver as she backed against the wall, her heart beat thundering through the roof. Was it wrong that I had no trace of sympathy for her plight? I was about to end her life, sever any ties she had with this world. And I felt… nothing.

A soulless demon stared back at me from the reflection in her eyes. His eyes a sharp, ruby red, his seductive lips curved in a smirk of arrogance and superiority as he reveled in the fear of his prey. _I_ was that monster.

Another heartbeat, another thought intruded on my concentration.

My hands fisted in anger, my jaw clenched tight.

_You_," I growled.

"Hi, honey, I'm home."

I had only a half—second to react as he flung another vial at me, whirling out of sight as I sprinted into the hall, my vision rapidly turning a hazy red. What the fuck was _he_ doing here?"

"Are you alright?" I heard him ask Madison. Her thoughts were still incoherent, her shock instilled strongly within her mind. She would need years of therapy after this — if she _survived_, that was. I swept back inside the room, wrapping my arm in a death grip around Jacob Black's neck before he knew I was there and crushing his wrist beneath my fingers. The second vial fell from his hand, crashing to the ground as he bit out a scream of agony. His wrist crunched easily beneath my grip, and I enjoyed the pain in his voice.

"Do you really think that a mere _human_ could kill me?" I spat in his ear.

It was then I smelled it, the faintest traces of Dead Man's Blood on his clothes, skin… _hair_. My hands had begun to prickle uneasily as the serum seeped into my skin, my nose twitching awkwardly as it brushed his hair.

I released him immediately, skittering away from him rapidly, and appearing a second later, crouching on the television set.

He was sneering at me through his pain, his nearly black eyes staring at me levelly. He was resourceful, this one, I thought angrily. Only moments from now the pain would be unbearable. It had taken hours for the agony to recede to only a faint nuisance the first time. The bruises had not yet completely disappeared, invisible to the human eye but traceable to my own.

I needed an offense. My mind whirled through several possibilities, discarding almost every idea because he was too smart, too resourceful for a human. Who would have thought to rub a vampire poison into their body, their hair? As I thought within the space of two seconds, my gaze focused on the rapid swelling on his wrist. A weakness. Brittle, easily breakable skin.

A _weakness_.

My mind flickered back to the blurred, out of focus image I had seen in his head only three weeks ago. I was sure it was a girl, someone who meant something to him, but with the image I had, she could have been anyone. He was good at keeping his secrets from me. It was annoyingly frustrating how easily this human could gain the upper hand, even for a few moments.

I tried to read what he was thinking, but he was mentally reciting French verb tenses, his sneer still firmly in place and the fingers of his good hand twitching excitedly. It alerted me to where his next vial was hidden, and I kept a surreptitious eye on it as I balanced my plan precariously in my head.

"Who is she, then?" I asked in a low, persuasive voice. I figured that talking about her would make him slip, make him show me something he'd rather I didn't have. Would it agonize him if I killed her, plunged my teeth into her neck as he watched, helpless and weak? A smirk began to play on my lips.

His mind remained firmly focused on his words as he said in a pathetic, innocent voice, "Who?"

I gritted my teeth in irritation. It took an extreme effort not to fulfill every fantasy in my head and launch myself at him, severing his neck and letting his blood run dry, tainted and untouched. I would not drink this human's blood, ever. It would be a stretch on my control, but I would never soil myself in that way. He was scum, lower than low. I rated myself on the same scale — but I was comfortable with my forever. I was _not_ comfortable while his heart still beat.

"Your sister," I taunted. I knew this… _animal_ had two sisters somewhere, not people I was interested in. He had not seen them in years, I knew, from our previous encounter six years ago. They didn't like how his hate consumed him as it did their father.

Jacob's mind did not slip an inch. "Does it hurt, leech?"

Now that he reminded me, it did. The burning was starting to get into my system. I had minutes before I would be unable to concentrate enough to keep this game up. I would need to focus on escaping and curling up in my Bat Cave for a few days while the pain abated.

"No," I lied smoothly. Better to let him think his plan hadn't worked. But his sneer told me that he didn't believe me. He knew what I would be doing tonight while I cursed him to the deepest pit in hell. "Would it hurt _you_? If I found her?"

His mind was still focused solely on the words about to come out of his mouth. He must have been practicing for years to prefect such control, I noted in irritation.

"Find _who_?" he said.

"Your girl," I said, my tone slightly teasing. It was a weird thought, thinking of someone who could ever _like_ a man like him. Maybe it was his looks. I was not an expert on analyzing the attractiveness of men, but he didn't seem someone extraordinary who drew the eyes of women. He _was_ more muscular than most men his age, but they weren't the kind of muscles you got in a gym. Were they attractive? I didn't know. His eyes were an extremely dark brown, black to the human eye. For me, having black eyes only made people slightly less nervous about making eye contact. He wasn't a pretty boy. Just… hard. A hard jaw line, a hard nose. Hey, maybe _she_ liked the protector type. He certainly was _that_. Did she know what he did at night? Scouring the streets for blood thirsty killers? He had to smirk at that. Did he consider _himself_ the blood thirsty killer of vampires he was?

"I don't have a girlfriend," he answered, still unswervingly careful.

"Sure you do," I said nonchalantly. "I saw her."

Panic made his heart beat slightly faster, but his thoughts remained ever faithful.

"Did you, now?"

"Pretty little thing," I teased. "Smells delectable?" _Ring a bell?_

He gritted his teeth; he couldn't tell whether I was lying or not. It was kind of easy to tell really — would she really be alive if I was telling the truth? Obviously this human wasn't as intelligent as he let on. It was a simple conclusion to reach — I _was_ a vampire after all. It was generally what our kind did.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he repeated.

"Does she know what you do?" I continued as if he hadn't interrupted me. I was genuinely curious about how honest he was with his girlfriend. "That you hunt 'bloodsuckers' at night?" I sneered over the nickname, it was so undignified for such graceful hunters.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, subtly, but nonetheless, my eyes missed nothing. It was extremely difficult to hide something from a vampire, even without the mind-reading abilities.

"Sore spot?" I guessed. He said nothing, remaining impassive. His mind focused on a point on the wall above my shoulder.

I grinned. "She disapproves?"

Still, nothing. How long was it going to take for this pathetic human to crack? His bravery was waning on me now, this game was getting old. I was going to find her one way or the other — he had to know I would. And she was going to die. I would hunt her down, scour the earth for her, and suck every molecule of life from her body. It was the only conclusion this situation would have before Jacob Black met his tragic, painful death.

"Or maybe… you have told her only _some_ of it —" His body was giving him away, twitching more frequently the closer I came to the truth. The closer _he_ came to cracking. I stopped short, my voice suddenly low, velvety. "Don't you tell each other everything?"

And like the signal on a broken television, the images blended and faded as soon as they came until one, solid image broke through his careful barrier and I snatched on it eagerly, feeding on a moment, a face, a voice…

"_I thought we could tell each other everything…"_

A heart—shaped face stared back at me, but not _me_, Jacob Black. A soft, plain face with wide—set brown eyes and thick, dark lashes on the palest skin I had ever seen. I had never seen a human being look more sad or confused as I had in that image. Her mouth, slightly unbalanced as her top lip was too full to compliment the bottom, was compressed tightly, her expression strained.

_Bella_.

"NO!" Jacob's scream was mental _and_ verbal. Suddenly he was flying at me, his eyes murderous and his entire being intent on only one thing. Eliminating the threat to his sweet, precious girl… I whirled from the television, brushing past a frightened Madison so fast that she only felt a wave of cold air descend on her already freezing body as I passed. Jacob was prepared, his mind shifting almost as fast as mine and, vial in hand, he flung it a meter ahead of me…

We collided, the poison and I.

The glass vial shattered on my skin and spread across my chest, seeping into my clothes, into my skin. My entire body seized in agony and I growled, my throat dry and raspy as I focused my gaze on Jacob. He knew that it was taking all of my concentration to stare at him; I would be unable to hurt him now without writhing on the floor. My lip was burning from spattered drops of the poison, and I realized how close he had come to destroying me.

_Not yet_, I thought, my vision a heady blaze of crimson. Fire blazed through my body, consuming every inch of my skin. It had not been this painful the first time. My whole body would be covered in dark, purplish, painful bruises and the agony of recovery was going to be excruciating. But as I stared at Jacob Black, for the first time I saw fear. _I_ had the upper hand — _me_, the bruised, poison—ridden, weak vampire had the upper hand tonight. And Jacob Black was going to suffer so much, he was going to wish he'd never been born.

With the last shred of control I had, I flung myself through the window, ignoring how the shards of glass broke off my skin and only seemed to increase the burning inferno deep in my skin. I sprinted through the night, weaving my way through the town without thought — my body knew the way home.

I stumbled into the house, greeted immediately by Rosalie who flung open the door, her perfect blonde brow arching in surprise, and then narrowing in anger when she saw my crippled state.

"You fucking idiot!" she exclaimed, raking her hand through her long blonde hair as she pulled me inside the door and slammed it shut. I growled at her, my voice raspy.

"Trust me, it was worth it."

She stared at me, obviously doubting my sanity. I did not need to read her thoughts to know what she thought of me now.

I sighed, sprinting for the stairs before the rest of my control gave out.

"Edward!" she called.

I shoved my way into my room, knocking several vinyl records from the shelves. Glass shattered but I didn't bother to clean it up. Instead, I lay down flat under my piano on the cold floorboards. I closed my eyes, dropping the mental wall I constructed to keep the flames at bay. While they slowly consumed me, I lay in a coma—like state, my lips curved in a sly smirk as I plotted and planned.

It was like comparing honey to a lemon.

Only I was going to have a _feast_.

* * *

**B.**

"Jake?! What are you doing here?" I flung open the front door, my brow arched in irritation as Jacob scrambled to his feet on the front steps, folding his arms across his broad chest. "For God's sake, you've been practically camping on my doorstep for _four days_."

"Nothing," Jake answered curtly. "Go back inside, you'll catch something."

As he said this, I shivered. I was still wearing my flannel pajama bottoms and a white tank top, my hair ruffled from sleep and ordinarily, I would have been embarrassed that my boyfriend could see me like this but I was too irritated to care. He took the term "guard dog" to a whole new level. I think the reason I was so irritated with his extreme behavior was because I was worried that something _was_ seriously wrong. I had never seen him this agitated, this jumpy. He insisted on following me to work each day, and either he or Billy would arrive every so often to "buy" something.

Ha! Like I didn't know they were spying on me — they were idiots at deception.

"Go _home_, Jake. Get some sleep," I sighed. "Charlie's here to protect me," I added for his benefit.

He just continued to stare at me stonily until Charlie himself appeared behind me, his arms folded across his chest. Jacob might have been the son of his best friend, but he was no more lenient with him than he was with any other boy he came across. He felt it was his duty to protect my virtue.

"You're still here?" he asked gruffly, his brow raised. "Get home, kid."

Jacob shook his head slowly. "I don't… think so."

Charlie's jaw tightened. "Listen kid, I might have said it all nice and fluffy like, but like it or not, it was an _order_. You can see Bella at a more reasonable hour."

"Charlie, you don't —"

"You and Billy need to relax," Charlie interrupted. "Bella is safe here with me, she doesn't need you _stalking_ her." Charlie glared at Jacob, waiting for him to turn and leave.

"Bella," Jacob said swiftly, his gaze flickering to me. "Ring me before you leave for work, will you?"

I frowned. "I'm not working today, remember?"

"Oh." His gaze flickered back to Charlie, who was nearing the end of his patience. I wondered if he had his gun on him. "I'll see what I can do, then, Charlie."

Charlie slammed the door shut, muttering something under his breath that I pretended not to hear. Jake had been getting on Charlie's nerves all week ever since his camping trips had begun. Every night at two, Jake would appear on the doorstep and remain there until I left for work. By now, there were purplish bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep and if he didn't take a break soon, he wouldn't be able to protect me at all.

"Bells," Charlie called suddenly, hovering in the kitchen door frame. I turned slowly, frowning.

"Yeah?"

"You… you and Jake aren't fighting, are you?" he asked awkwardly.

_Define fighting_, I thought exasperatedly. Everything seemed to be an argument with Jake now. It was like walking on shards of glass (which was decidedly more perilous for me than any other human being on the planet, considering my luck) — I couldn't ask him what was wrong, what he was thinking, without it blowing up in my face. But like the perfect girlfriend, I smiled and weathered through it because… because it was _Jake_. My Jacob.

"No," I lied. There was a false note in my voice — I was an atrocious liar — but Charlie didn't seem to pick up on it as he scratched his head, his brow creased.

"Good." He sighed. "Be careful, honey, okay?"

I nodded and turned away before he could pursue the conversation. Talking with Charlie about Jake was… awkward. I couldn't even describe to him how it felt — it wasn't a crush, or first love. Sometimes I couldn't even describe it to myself but it had begun to manifest as a black hole, much like the canvas now hanging on my bedroom wall. Jacob was sucking me into his black hole and I was letting him because I loved him enough to weather it for him.

I entered my bedroom and let the door click shut quietly. My clothes were strewn across the back of my rocking chair, which was facing my bed, it's back to the bleak canvas. Sunlight fought its way through the net curtain on my window, but it barely touched the floorboards before the light was sucked out of it by the cold blackness.

I threw on my jeans and sweater before going over to the window to make sure that Jacob wasn't hanging out on my front doorstep still. My eyes lifted and I caught sight of him walking up the road, his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets. I wondered what was going on, that he felt the need to protect me so insanely. That he couldn't trust Charlie to do the job for him.

I settled onto the rocking chair, _Persuasion_ in hand, and I flipped through the pages almost absentmindedly for over an hour. I knew the story by heart so my mind began to wander, to worry. It had begun with Jake's hand. I had woken up to find him standing on the doorstep, his hand held over his chest protectively and his wrist about the size of a melon. He hissed when I attempted to clean it up a little, and insisted that he was okay, that the swelling would go down in a few days. I wanted him to go see a doctor, but he had been reluctant to leave. Thankfully, it was in a cast now, but Billy had taken over the "Protect Bella" shift while he waited for Jacob to return from the A&E. His secrets were becoming more dangerous, and I was becoming furious that he wouldn't include me, since somehow I had become a part of this. What worried me the most was _why_ he couldn't tell me.

I jumped, dropping my book as my cell phone jolted to life, a loud rendition of _Noots_ blasting from the speaker. I scrambled for it on my bedside table and clicked the answer button, forgetting to check the caller ID.

"Isabella?"

"Hi, Mrs. Newton," I said politely, raking a hand through my disheveled hair. Did I forget she had asked me to work today? I didn't think so…

"Oh, I'm so glad I reached you!" she said, a little out of breath. "Mike and Tyler were at a party last night, and Mike hasn't come home yet… and the shop is out of _control_ today… Well, see, the thing is — Diane Stanley is insisting that I help her out with the twins, and Jessica's at Lauren's so…"

"You need me to come over?" I guessed.

"Would you? Oh, that would be terrific! Eric is already here, he volunteered earlier… could you come over as soon as you can? I'm sorry but things are…"

"I — I don't know, Mrs. Newton," I said slowly. I bit my lip, debating between my guilt over leaving Eric on his own and my worry over Jacob's erratic behavior. He was worried about me for some reason and I was unsure whether working at Newtons today was a good idea.

"Aw, Bella, please! I swear, we're rushed off our feet and I wouldn't normally ask on your day off…"

"Okay," I sighed. The guilt won. "I'll see you in ten."

I hung up the phone and headed down to the kitchen to explain the situation to Charlie. He wasn't half as worried as I had expected him to be after Jacob's warning, but Charlie didn't believe that Port Angeles could be _that_ unsafe. Like me, Charlie had never seen a true vampire before and he still struggled to believe that they were real. Besides — wasn't it well—known knowledge that vampires only came out at _night_?

I put on my raincoat and headed out into the street, walking quickly down the familiar path towards Newtons' Olympic Outfitters, only faintly apprehensive as my shoes clicked quietly against the pavement. Jacob would probably kill me for not telling him I was going in to work, but I was getting sick of having him constantly following me everywhere with a sour expression on his face.

I jumped when a dark navy Citroën pulled up on the pavement next to me, the dark windows winding down slowly as a blonde, perfectly made—up head popped out. Her face was apologetic.

"I'm sorry about this, Bella, I know it was your day off…" she said.

I shrugged, attempting a polite smile. "It's okay, Mrs. Newton."

She nodded, flicking her hair back over her shoulder before pressing her foot on the accelerator and pulling away from the sidewalk. I watched the car go for a few seconds before I considered walking down the path, glancing around every so often as if I would find Jacob hiding behind a building somewhere, just waiting to catch me and have another go at me. At least it would be because I was finally doing something to deserve it.

When I reached the shop, I pushed the door open quietly, frowning in consternation as I glanced around the shop. Mrs. Newton had made it sound as if the place had been teeming with people, but as far as I could tell there was no—one here.

"Eric?" I called, shrugging off my coat and hanging it up on the coat stand inside the door. Nobody answered me, so I presumed he was in the store room, arranging new stock. Mrs. Newton always had the boys bring the new stuff out every Saturday, only it seemed Eric had to do it alone today.

I glanced toward the door to make sure that we hadn't any impending customers before I weaved between the shelves, heading for the store room. "Eric?"

I pushed open the door, blinking blindly in the darkness. "Eric, are you in here?" My hands fumbled for the light switch and I flipped it on, glancing around the dimly lit room. Boxes were stacked haphazardly on shelves and on the floor. Fishing rods were strewn across the top shelf without the care they were shown in the display cases, and I had to roll my eyes. The Newtons were _all_ about appearances.

I was about to go out when I noticed something funny on the ground, like a spotty shoe lace. I frowned, moving closer and stooping to pick it up. I tugged on it, but it wouldn't budge; it was trapped under a box marked "Nails". My brow furrowed in concentration, I tried to move the box and on the third shove, I dislodged the shoe lace, but as the box skittered out of the way, my stomach suddenly seized as a cool, rusty smell assaulted my senses.

I slapped my hand over my mouth, my stomach convulsing as my eyes followed the trail of the shoe lace to a blood—spattered trainer and — _Eric!_

I choked, my heart rate collapsing into a sprint.

He was lying on his back, blood clotting on a large, open wound on his head as though he had fallen from a ladder and whacked his head on one of the shelves. His glasses had skittered a few paces from his head and the glass was dark with fresh blood.

"Oh my God, Eric!" I rasped. The blood was making my stomach heave with nausea. I pinched my nose to stop the smell and climbed awkwardly over his body, toward his head. Gently, I slid my finger along his pale neck, feeling for a pulse.

Nothing.

I tried again, harder this time. I thought that I was hurting him, but I needed to find a pulse. I gave up in frustration and climbed across his chest, lifting one pale hand in mine. His skin was still warm. I pressed my fingers to his wrist, muttering a prayer under my breath but… his heartbeat was still. Not one single, weak thump.

I hadn't realized I was crying until my vision blurred and I swiped at my face impatiently, backing away from Eric's body slowly. I remembered vaguely that I should probably call an ambulance or something. I choked back an hysterical laugh. It wasn't like it was urgent, he was already _dead_.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for you."

I whirled, my heart pulsing harder in my chest as I turned toward the door, and the tall, dark figure guarding it. He lounged casually against the door frame, his long, pale arms crossed loosely across his broad chest. His black shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his collar open at the top. But while his body caught my eye, it was his face that held my attention. He had the most disarming bronze hair I had ever seen, strewn across his head artfully. His face was almost sculpted and devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. His soft mouth was pursed, his jaw tight as he regarded me with disconcertingly crimson eyes, like liquid rubies.

And as I stared back into his dark, unfathomable gaze, I realized how stupid I had been. Jacob had tried to protect me, even if that meant he had to keep secrets from me and vent his anger on me because someone else couldn't take it. And I had blithely disregarded him… and walked straight into the trap of a demon.

"You killed Eric," I choked out, my voice breaking.

"He was collateral damage," the vampire said smoothly, unemotionally. "It's you I am here for."

"That's not…" I glanced at Eric's still, unmoving body. The blood was clotting on the collar of his shirt, still oozing from the wound on his head. "You didn't have to kill him. You could have —" I shook my head. "— knocked him out or something…"

He stared at me, a thin furrow line appearing between his eyebrows, on the bridge of his nose. He tilted his head slightly after a moment, his jaw still rigid though he made no further movements.

"It's because of Jacob, isn't it?" I said in a small voice. I knew how far Jacob would go to kill this creature and many more of his kind, how angry he was that such creatures could exist… but I had never considered that they thought of Jacob in the same light. To Jacob it was simple. Black and white, good and evil. Vampires were evil. But what was black and white to _them_?

The vampire's lips twisted into a harsh sneer. "Yes."

I nodded, raking a hand through my hair. Tears fell from my eyes, I could taste them on my lips but I was still trying to register the fact that Eric was dead, and that I would be soon. All that Jacob had done to protect me had been in vain and I was so… _stupid_ to let an — an _argument_ — get to me. He didn't deserve to suffer from this, but I did. But what about Charlie? And Renée? They didn't deserve to suffer either, they had no part in this power play.

I closed my eyes. It was too late to acknowledge the foolishness of my decision to agree to Mrs. Newton's plea. My hands balled into fists, and I waited.

Slowly, painfully… minutes ticked on.

"Please," I whispered suddenly.

His voice was a low, velvety sneer. "You're going to plead for your life? Really?"

My brow furrowed — I hadn't actually considered that, though it _did_ seem like a good idea — but I couldn't bring myself to beg for my life. It wasn't about pride, and I probably _should_ have for Jacob's sake, but I had accepted the inevitability. Instead, I whispered, "When Jacob comes for you, don't kill him. Please. I need him to look after Charlie for me…" I started to babble, the volume of tears beginning to increase as I considered my father's cooking. "… and tell him that Charlie doesn't know how to operate the oven, so he'll probably end up starving to death, and I don't want that to happen because then I'll feel even guiltier for not listening to Jake and no—one else needs to suffer for my stupidity…"

Something cold and gentle touched my neck. I stiffened automatically, my mouth snapping shut as my eyes flew open. His face was inches from mine, a seductive, alluring scent wrapping around my head. My heart skittered unevenly in my chest as his cold, extremely pale fingers drew my hair back from my neck. I stood completely still, my breathing loud as he lowered his head, one hand light on my hip. His mouth brushed my skin and I shivered, my eyes fluttered shut as I awaited the inevitable.

Slowly, painfully… another moment slipped by.

And another.

My breath catching, my eyes flickered open but there was no—one there. I shivered, the imprint of his mouth cold on my skin and the softest trace of his alluring scent hovering in the stagnant air. I was alone in the storeroom with Eric's corpse.

And though I didn't know why, I was alive.


	5. Lex Talionis

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
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**5. LEX TALIONIS  
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**E.  
**

_Bella_.

For four days, I lay rigid under my piano as the effects of the Dead Man's Blood swept through my system, a burning inferno not unlike my transformation. She was all I could think about, the thought of biting into her delicate neck, destroying Jacob Black… it ignited a balm to the flames and for four days I endured the burning without uttering a single word. Victory was so close.

Jacob had brought this on himself. A good hunter made no ties — it was textbook, and typical of a human to be unable to keep the rules. He was too emotional, one of his many flaws. So through my agony, my anger and my anticipation, a plan began to formulate…

And four days after that fateful night in Madison's house, I found myself strolling into a moronic camping shop called "Newtons' Olympic Outfitters", glancing around at the dimly lit, cramped shop with distaste. Rosalie and Emmett had done some digging for me while I was incapacitated, and I knew where she worked, lived… how inconvenient Jacob Black had been throughout the entire ordeal. Camping outside on her front doorstep? I smirked. Like _that_ would stop me.

There were a lot of people inside, split into groups of twos and threes as they hovered around camping equipment and listened as a frazzled, forty year old blonde recited her sales pitch, and a smallish looking boy with glasses and really bad acne followed her around like a lost puppy, obviously wishing he wasn't there. He was thinking something about a party, but I tuned out his thoughts, glancing down the aisles for _her_.

She wasn't there.

_Can't believe Mike hasn't returned! Diane asked me over an hour ago and I'm _stuck_ here…_

My head snapped toward the blonde woman, who was gesturing toward a shiny black fishing rod. While mentally berating her son, she pinned a wide smile on her face and continued to sweet talk a bunch of tourists into buying something so ridiculously overpriced.

_Must call Bella in — yes, that would work. God knows she's honest enough not to steal when I'm not there, should teach Mike a few pointers, idiot…_

I watched her pull out her phone, and her irritatingly fake voice became frazzled, while she smiled winningly at the retreating tourists. They were two men, enamored with her and her surprisingly hot body for someone her age.

"Isabella?"

"Hi, Mrs. Newton." Her voice was muted, muffled from the phone.

"Oh, I'm so glad I reached you!" The blonde said in a high, breathy voice. "Mike and Tyler were at a party last night, and Mike hasn't come home yet… and the shop is out of _control_ today… Well, see, the thing is — Diane Stanley is insisting that I help her out with the twins, and Jessica's at Lauren's so…"

"You need me to come over?" she asked, her voice unsure.

"Would you?" Blondie immediately pounced on her offer. "Oh, that would be terrific! Eric is already here —" The scrawny, acne—ridden boy's neck snapped up, hearing his name. _Bella's coming over? And Mike won't be here… hmm, maybe I can show her I'm not a jerk like them… then she might fuck me… she doesn't look very experienced, maybe she wouldn't notice my mistakes so much… _

I raised my eyebrows. Who knew nerds were so crude?

"… he volunteered earlier," Blondie continued. "Could you come over as soon as you can? I'm sorry but things are —"

"I — I don't know, Mrs. Newton," she said slowly.

"Aw, Bella, please! I swear, we're rushed off our feet and I wouldn't normally ask on your day off…" _What does _she_ need a day off for anyway? It's not like she does anything except read… though I expect that overbearing boyfriend of hers demands it…_

Overbearing, huh? It certainly fit the profile of Jacob Black, deigning to control everything and everyone.

"Okay," Bella sighed. "I'll see you in ten."

My stomach tightened in excitement. She was coming. I was going to press my lips to her neck and drain every inch of life from her, and then I was going to stare into Jacob Black's face. And I was going to smirk. Because _I_ would win. An eye for an eye, so to speak. I was going to pay Jacob Black back for every single grievance he had caused me. And I was going to love every minute of it.

Blondie grabbed her coat from the coat stand inside the door and muttered quick instructions to Eric, who tried was trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was in charge for the next ten minutes. But then his mind was flicking back to the fact that he and Bella would be in the shop alone, and the amateur seduction scenes that followed were revolting…

_"I like your hair Bella…"_

_"Really, Eric? Fuck me _NOW_… please?"_

I snorted, but the boy didn't notice, too preoccupied with the fantasies flickering through his head like lights on a Christmas tree. Slowly, I glanced around the shop, watching as a few browsed along the shelves, talking amongst themselves as they chose something from the display shelves. In my mind, they were collateral damage, but was it responsible to kill so many in one go? Rosalie would go mad, and to be quite honest, I was a little afraid of Rosalie when she was pissed. Appearances meant everything to her, in every sense of the word.

So instead of sucking their blood dry, I interrupted their conversation.

"You do know that Murphy's on the Falls Road is at least _half_ of these prices, and much better quality? It was in _Responsible Camping_ magazine a few weeks ago…" I said in a low, velvety voice.

The man in front of my frowned, dropping the outdoor kettle in his hand onto the shelf in front of him.

"Seriously?" _Is this guy for real? I've been shopping here for a year, and I'd swear their stock isn't exactly…_

"Dead serious," I said, my eyes widening innocently. They were dark red today, an effect of the Dead Man's Blood. It had drained almost all my blood intake from my body as my vampiric antibodies fought against the poison.

"Cool, thanks, man." He clapped me on the shoulder, wincing slightly as his knuckles made contact, but it didn't bother him. He was already hurrying toward his partner, pulling her out of the shop before he could explain properly what I had told him.

The crowd began to leave as I moved through the isles, muttering lies into their ears until it was just Eric and I left in the shop. I flicked the closed sign before I approached the counter where Eric was standing, punching numbers into the till.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

Eric's head snapped up. "Y—yes?" His eyes widened as they traveled over me, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he swallowed. _I really hope he isn't here when Bella arrives. How am I supposed to have a chance then?_

"I was wondering if you had a K6800 Steiner…?" I said the first thing that came into my head — something I most certainly hadn't seen on the shelves. It hadn't even been made ready for the general public yet, as it was still in it's testing stage. But I suspected a generic teenage boy wasn't going to know that kind of trivia.

"Let me check the storeroom," he mumbled. He turned and headed toward a door at the back of the shop, not realizing that I was following him, my feet making no sound on the tiling. He pushed open the door and I slipped inside before it closed behind him automatically. His fingers fumbled for the light switch though I could see perfectly and I caught his warm wrist in my cold grip before he could reach the switch.

With a swift flick, I snapped it.

Eric cried out, his scream high and girly as his wrist bone split in half. It was different to breaking Jacob Black's hand — Jacob fought to hide his pain from me while this boy screamed in bewilderment, uncomprehending his imminent death. I knew drinking from his neck would distract me and I would not be able to focus when Bella arrived. I needed to be ready for this, to exult in the exact moment when Jacob Black's world crashed down around him.

I used his broken wrist to propel him forward with more force than I was used to using and he was lifted several feet into the air until his soft cry came to a sudden stop and an ear—splitting crack resounded around the abruptly silent room. Eric's body folded around the edge of a shelf and slunk to the ground, knocking a box across his leg. The stench of his fresh flowing blood filtered through the air and my fists clenched as I fought to resist a taste.

I climbed the shelves lithely and crouched like a bat in the attic, a shadow against the ceiling as I waited.

It did not take long before I heard the quiet tinkle of the bell over the door, and someone stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click. I focused my attention on reading her thoughts, but…

_Nothing?_

I frowned, closing my eyes as I focused harder, following her movements with my ears to better pinpoint her mental location.

I could hear nothing — not even a whisper.

"Eric?" The voice was low, clear — different to how I had heard it in Jacob Black's thoughts or over the phone. Jacob's mind was not as acute as my own, he did not hear things… properly. Clearly. It was… pleasant.

I heard her shrug off her coat, the shuffling as she presumably placed it on the coat hanger. It irritated me that I could not follow her movements in her mind — I could only guess with my ears. I followed her footsteps, hearing the soft footfall on the tiles as she neared the storeroom.

"Eric?" she repeated, slightly louder this time.

The door handle turned with a quiet squeak and she stepped inside, blinking blindly in the sudden darkness. She wasn't the only one to have sight problems. It just made me hate Jacob Black more, seeing how he was so blind to anything around him.

She was maybe 5'5'' by my estimation, and slender, but not athletically so. Her longish, brown hair was tangled a little from the wind, and her wide, deep brown eyes blinked in the darkness with unconscious grace, her dark, thick lashes forming half—moon shapes on her pale white face every few seconds. Jacob had underestimated the depth of her eyes, the translucent texture of her skin…

"Eric, are you in here?" Her small hands fumbled for the light switch and she flipped it on, glancing around the room, her brow furrowed in a soft frown.

I focused in on her position again, annoyance quickly turning to desperation as her mind remained ever silent, frustratingly… _blank_.

She let out a soft sigh before turning to leave… but something caught her attention. Her frown deepened as she stepped back inside the door and moving toward where Eric now lay, stooping down in front of a box so that I no longer had her in sight. But I could hear the soft thump of her heart in her chest, her shallow breathing…

The box began to shift. On the third shove, the box skittered out of the way and I watched as her face drained of what color it had had, one hand slapping over her mouth. Her eyes followed the lace of Eric's trainer to his body, and I heard her heart collapse into a frightened sprint.

"Oh my God, Eric!" she rasped, her hands shaking as she pinched her nose. She began to climb awkwardly over the boy's body, inching towards his head. As she touched her finger to his neck, I realized she was checking for a pulse.

I knew she would not find one; Eric's heart was no longer beating.

Her brow furrowed, I watched as she applied more pressure, her frustration evident in her eyes as she once again found nothing. She muttered, "Christ, come on, Eric…" so softly, I knew that I was not meant to hear her. Her wide brown eyes were dark with moisture as she fumbled for the boy's wrist, pressing her fingers to his skin almost desperately.

She stopped then, as if it had hit her that the boy was truly dead. She swiped at her face impatiently, backing away from the boy's corpse slowly. She made a quiet choking noise, and I slipped from the shelves, my anger rising as I watched her cry. What a weak little human. Fragile. Had she known the crude thoughts in the boy's head about her, would she have cared so much for his life? She was like the rest of them — they were selfish, weak creatures. And I hated her for it, hated her with a loathing so strong I did not fully comprehend it. She was so deceptive, so beautiful in an understated, innocent way that you could almost believe that she was not human, not like the rest of them.

My limbs rigid as I anticipated her eventual death, I leaned carefully against the door frame, folding my arms loosely across my chest.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for you," I said in a low, velvety voice that immediately drew her attention. No, she didn't know how long I had been waiting to kill her, even if I had not known that it was her death I craved in the first place.

She whirled, her heart thumping hard in her chest as she turned to face me, her disconcerting brown eyes snapping to mine. I had never seen a human so pale, so confused and… _in pain_ before. She did not betray any bodily wounds, it was not physical pain that caused the deep sorrow in her eyes as she stared unblinkingly back at me, as though she knew exactly why I was standing here, and had already anticipated the outcome.

Finally, she spoke.

"You killed Eric," she choked out, her voice breaking. Her concern infuriated me, she did not truly care.

"He was collateral damage," I said smoothly, unemotionally. "It's you I am here for."

"That's not…" She glanced at Eric's still, unmoving body. I could smell the blood clotting now, still oozing from the wound on his head. "You could have —" She shook her head, her wavy brown hair bouncing slightly around her hair as her brow furrowed in frustration. "— knocked him out or something…"

I frowned, tilting my head as I stared at her. Did she genuinely care that Eric was dead? An annoying, acne—ridden boy who stalked her in his fantasies and dreamed of touching her hair? My anger grew, my hatred grew… but it was not for _her_. Jacob Black. How had the bastard managed to choose the one girl he could manipulate so easily? Make cling to him as if he was the center of her world? And her stupidity irritated me because I knew that she would believe that Jacob was right. That exterminating vampires wasn't _murder_.

"It's because of Jacob, isn't it?" she said in a small voice. _Jacob, Jacob, Jacob…_ I would kill her because of Jacob. I did not question whether she deserved to die or not, because she was with Jacob it was simple to overlook her silent mind and confusing genuine concern for a boy she barely spoke to…

"Yes," I answered, my lips twisting into a harsh sneer. Because that was what I had become.

She nodded, she had already known. She raked a hand through her dark hair, tears falling from her eyes that she did not brush away. Her eyes held a pain I did not understand, and I practically shoved my mental walls at her, trying to access her mind.

But always, _always_ nothing.

Her eyes closed, her thick lashes dark on her pale skin. Her hands balled into fists, as tears continued to leak from her eyes in neat, wet tracks. I realized that she expected me to kill her now.

I did not move.

I did not know what compelled me to remain still, to listen to the harsh thump of her heart, the vital _life_ that exuded from her, something that I would never have.

"Please," she whispered suddenly.

"You're going to plead for your life? Really?" I asked, my voice a low, velvety sneer. Somehow I had expected more from her. Was it automatically programmed into the human psyche to be selfish? Hell, I was one to talk but I supposedly had no conscience. She was the sweetest of liars, an innocent face that drew you in, a delicate voice that held your ears, and a conscience that lied through it's teeth.

But then she spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. "When Jacob comes for you, don't kill him. Please. I need him to look after Charlie for me…" She was babbling, but I understood her words perfectly. It was the meaning that disturbed me, her tears increasing though she refused to re—open her eyes. "… and tell him that Charlie doesn't know how to operate the oven, so he'll probably end up starving to death, and I don't want that to happen because then I'll feel even guiltier for not listening to Jake and no—one else needs to suffer for my stupidity…"

I _needed_ her to shut up. My body propelled me forward without conscious thought and I was standing in front of her before another word could slip out of her slightly unbalanced, but beautiful mouth. My hand slid along her neck, applying the barest pressure against the veins in her neck. Her blood pulsed beneath my fingers, and venom pooled in my mouth as I thought about sinking my teeth into her skin.

She stiffened against my touch, her mouth snapping shut and her eyes flying open. She stared up at me, her eyes bewildered and confused and I drew her hair back from her neck slowly. Her heart skittered unevenly, attractively, in her chest. She stood completely still as I placed one hand on her hip, and leaned my head down, against her throat.

Gently, I pressed my lips to her soft, delicate skin. She shivered, but she did not cry out, she did not try to fight me off and for some reason it just felt — _wrong_. I was so close that the smell of her blood inflamed my thirst but I couldn't sink my teeth into something so vital, someone who was not like any other whore in the fucking city. Was I such a monster that I would destroy something so good? My entire unending existence had revolved around feeding on the blood of humans, humans who had wanted me, humans that lied, pillaged, murdered… humans like Jacob Black. But Bella?

I wrenched myself away from her, whirling away from the seductive scent of her blood and the quietness of her breathing. For the first time in my life, I realized I did not want to kill a human.

* * *

The club pulsed with neon lights and sultry music, the inane, predictable thoughts of those around me becoming almost nauseating with their familiarity. Rosalie continued to glare at me from across the dance floor and I flipped my middle finger at her, scowling when Emmett gave me a hard look.

_Cool it, bro. Find Tanya or something_, he thought at me.

He put my black mood down to sexual tension? Sometimes Emmett was clueless… But as if he had conjured her up, Tanya fell onto my lap, grinning as she tossed her strawberry curls behind her shoulders.

"You look hungry," she said teasingly as she curled up against my chest. I twisted my arm around her waist out of habit, but my thoughts were elsewhere. There was not a single mind in this room that wasn't obsessed with either money, drugs or sex. I imagined that I had dreamed her up, this girl with a silent mind and no self—preservation whatsoever. The Dead Man's Blood had really done a number on my brain if I was imagining annoyingly innocent human girls.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, my focus returning to Tanya, who was pouting slightly.

"You kinda zoned on me there, Edward," she said. She said it lightly, but I knew she was hurt.

"I'm starving," I said tiredly, glancing around at the heaving crowd. I could pick up on different blood types, scanning through the crowd for my favorites. Tanya probably wouldn't like it if I killed in the club, but I could always follow my victim home later, maybe have a little fun if they were interesting enough.

"I have an idea," Tanya said, sitting up suddenly.

I raised my eyebrows at her, but she shook her head. _Trust me._

She glided down onto the dance floor, a flirtatious smile gracing her beautiful face as she weaved into the dance floor. The man she was heading for smelled slightly more exotic than my usual tastes, but Tanya preferred them that way. She began dancing with him, and I knew he was interested. She moved more gracefully than any girl he had ever danced with, and by the time the song came to a close, he was putty in her hands. She leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. "Come with me?"

He nodded wordlessly and followed her off the dance floor. She glanced at me once, her lips tilting in a quick smirk — she learned from the best — as she beckoned me to follow with a crooked finger.

I followed inconspicuously as she led the man into the storeroom we had fucked in a few weeks ago and I blended into the background before he could notice my presence.

"Is this a ploy to make me jealous?" I asked, low enough that only she would hear.

_Watch me hunt_, she responded mentally as she kissed the human in front of her, showing remarkable restraint as he read the blood lust in her thoughts. The man thought that every dream he had ever had was suddenly coming true. He was groping her ass, pulling at the zipper on her dress but when her lips drifted to his neck, he suddenly moaned.

_This is why a kiss from Tanya Denali literally causes a man to feel light—headed on his feet,_ she thought smugly as her teeth sunk into the man's neck. I had never witnessed her self control first hand before. She was not consumed by a frenzy as I was, she was able to think rationally, to measure her blood intake as she drank from the man's neck. She stopped just before it would be too much, breathing heavily as she gulped down a final mouthful and sealed the wound with her tongue. She moved away from her victim, but he was still lucid, unaware that he had lost almost a liter of blood, and, like Tanya had said, was feeling a little light—headed.

"I — I'm sorry," he choked out. "I think I need a drink."

"Of course," Tanya said obligingly, crooking her finger at me as she led the man outside. I watched as she ditched him artfully and practically danced over to me, her eyes shining a brilliant crimson. She linked her arm through mine, grinning and I stared at her, slightly awed. I could not understand how she had managed to stop; it was something I knew that I could never do.

"Your turn," she said.

"What?"

"Pick a flavor, a girl…" she explained, gesturing toward the crowded dance floor. I chose the first girl I saw dancing alone, a girl who appeared to be hardly older than eighteen with common, beautiful features and blue eyes.

_Is he… looking at me? Oh my god!_

Yep… I hated her on sight. Like Tanya, I sauntered up to her, a smooth grin on my face. Her eyes widened, but she danced with me nonetheless, her thoughts almost incoherent as I let my skin graze hers sometimes, and drew closer every few seconds with the beat of the music. She was so predictable, boring.

I leaned in and whispered, "Come with me?" as Tanya had, and she nodded eagerly, allowing me to pull her gently from the dance floor. Tanya followed as I led her into the storeroom that we had just vacated and pushed her gently up against the back wall as I had with Tanya that night a few weeks ago. Kissing her was easy, if a little revolting. She was shoving her tongue into my mouth before I could even begin to kiss her with an ounce of the finesse I had garnered over the years. Slowly, I moved my mouth down her neck, ignoring her moaning as Tanya's voice intruded my mind, directing me…

_Don't think about it_, she instructed.

It was a bit fucking difficult not to think about it when I was _thinking_ about not thinking about it, and as I sunk my teeth into the girl's skin and heard her moan into my ear, it became almost impossible.

_What's her name?_

I fought to focus on the girl's mind as the blood began to seep between my teeth. Lauren?

The blood was beginning to pulse now, and what little control I had was slipping rapidly. My hands on her shoulders began to grip too tightly and Lauren hissed in pain, followed by a low cracking noise. I did not stop when I realized I had snapped her spine. It seemed to fuel the frenzy that obliterated my rational thought as I drained every last drop of blood from her system. But I didn't care about killing her, because I knew that she was a liar, that she was selfish… to me, she was insignificant. Unimportant. It did not matter whether she lived or died, only that she satisfied my raging thirst.

When I finished, I threw her from me in disgust, licking the remaining blood from my teeth.

"At least you tried," Tanya offered, appearing behind me. She wound her arms around my waist, leaning her head against my shoulder. "It gets easier the more you try."

I shook my head. She didn't understand. "I don't want to try, Tanya. I knew I wasn't going to be able to stop and I didn't care."

Confused, Tanya forced me to turn around and face her. "It doesn't matter to you who they are?"

"They're all the same," I said abruptly. "They're human."

"But —"

"Just drop it, okay? I need to clean this up."

She nodded, brushing her hair back from her face. "I'll go and get Emmett. He can help you." She glanced once at me, concerned, but then she turned and exited the storeroom without another word. I tried to pretend that I hadn't read her thoughts, but I still knew. She thought that I truly had no conscience, and though I had thought it many times myself, it was different hearing it from someone else. Like it was really true.

Emmett pushed open the door, wincing when he saw how disfigured Lauren's back had become, folded in on itself because I had squeezed her too tightly. "Ouch."

"Shut up," I growled.

"Whatever, bro. So what shall we do with her? I'm thinking open grave…"

* * *

**B.**

"Are you sure I'm allowed in here?" Jake asked, his normally dark frown surprisingly absent as he teased me, following me into my bedroom.

"Charlie's working late, so what he doesn't know won't hurt him," I explained, smiling a little. His grin widened, but a furrow appeared above his nose as he glanced at the black canvas on my wall. I had grown so used to seeing it there that I hadn't realized it would look a bit disturbing to someone else. But I didn't explain as I climbed onto my rocking chair, folding my legs beneath me. Jake sat down on my bed, staring up at the canvas behind my head.

"I have something to tell you," I started hesitantly, my hand shaking as I pushed my hair out of my face. I wasn't sure how to explain what had happened this morning. I had been there for hours, explaining repeatedly to police that I had gone into the storeroom and found Eric there, who had probably fallen from a shelf or something. I was a terrible liar, but I probably looked so shaken up that they believed me. Why would a girl like me lie to the police? Particularly when my dad was the Chief?

Jake raised his eyebrows at me, his gaze flickering toward me as he noticed the tremor in my hand. "What?"

"I, uh… I was in Newton's today, and —"

"You told me you didn't _have_ work!" Jake said, is jaw suddenly rigid.

"I didn't!" I said defensively. "But Mrs. Newton called because she needed someone to help out at the shop. It was a busy day and she couldn't find Mike."

"And you didn't ring me?" Jake asked pointedly.

I shook my head, pulling my knees up under my chin. It _had_ been a stupid move, but I didn't know what Jake had been protecting me from at the time. I hated it when he got like this, treating me like a child who needed a scolding. Like I was somehow inferior to him.

"Look," I said quickly. I couldn't tell him when he was like this. "It doesn't matter."

He was glaring at me, but he didn't press the subject. He took my silence to mean that it hadn't mattered, that nothing had happened. But… Eric was dead. He was sweet in an odd, geeky way. Collateral damage, that's what the vampire had said, because he had wanted to kill _me_. Because of Jacob.

But why was I still _alive_?

We were silent for a long moment, staring at each other. For the first time since we had met, I truly felt like we were opposing players in a game I did not fully understand. When had our communication links been severed? We might as well have been speaking different languages for all the good talking did for us. How could I tell him that the creature he hated most had almost killed me today when I was so sure he would blame _me? _He wouldn't tell me anything and it was putting me in more danger than I would have been had he told me everything from the beginning.

"Jake?" I murmured. "Will you tell me about Sarah?"

I silently pleaded with him to talk about her, but his jaw grew rigid and he turned away from me.

"She was murdered. What more do you need to know?"

I sighed in frustration. "What she smelled like? What she made you for breakfast? Did she read to you before you went to sleep? What did she sound like?"

"I don't know," Jake said stonily. "I can't remember." He was lying — he didn't _want_ to remember. He had blocked every memory of his mother but the image of her lying broken on the ground, where they had found her on the outskirts of a wood in Forks.

"Then _try_," I pressed.

"No."

"Jake!" I unfurled myself from the rocking chair, raking a hand through my disheveled hair and sat down on the mattress beside him. "Please. Just… let me in, please? I don't know what's going on anymore."

"And what has _Sarah_ got to do with this?" he spat. "With your _confusion_? She's dead, Bella! Just drop it."

"Everything!" I exclaimed. "She has _everything_ to do with this Jake!"

"SHUT UP, BELLA!" he yelled, jumping to his feet. "JUST STOP!"

He clamped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as if I were about to start hurling punches at him or something. I immediately felt guilty for pushing him so far and pulled myself up on my knees, trying to prize his hands from his head.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, my hands sliding along his rigid jaw until I felt him relax a fraction, and his lips became soft against mine.

"Do you love me, Jake?" I whispered against his mouth.

"What? Of course," he said quickly, his lips returning to mine, pressing gently against my mouth for entrance.

I moved away again. "Say it, Jake."

"What?" His brow furrowed in confusion when I moved away, my hands resting loosely on his shoulders.

"Tell me you love me," I said simply.

"I just did," he said, his eyes dark with confusion.

"No, you didn't. Just say it, Jake."

"You're being silly, Bella," he said tiredly.

"I love you, Jake," I said quietly, blinking back the moisture that pooled in my eyes. "Why can't you say it back?"

"I _do_ say it back," he said, a little angry this time. I shook my head, backing away a little. "Bella." He caught my arms, forcing me back towards him. "Stop running away from me."

"No, _you_ stop running away from _me_!" I exclaimed, trying to tug my arms from his grip, but he refused to let go.

"What is this about?" he demanded.

"Nothing," I muttered. His face softened, his hand reaching to brush my hair back from my face gently. I closed my eyes as he brushed my tears away from my face and leaned forward, his mouth an inch from mine.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bella," he said softly. He drove his fingers through my hair, cradling my head and pulled my mouth to his, his other hand winding around my waist and dragging me closer to him. His mouth was rough against my lips, like his frustration was leaking into the kiss, and it was unlike how we had kissed before. Before, Jacob had been careful to be gentle, making me feel comfortable around him, holding me as if he really did love me and was afraid I would break. But frustrated, Jake didn't care that we hadn't attempted this before. I opened my mouth to ask him to slow down but his tongue slid inside, and his arms tightened around my waist, pulling me even closer against his chest.

His hand started to lift the hem of my shirt, his fingers sliding over the flat expanse of my stomach and I shivered against him, freezing as he moaned into my mouth.

"Jake," I wrenched my mouth from his, but his lips continued to move across my jaw, to my neck. And suddenly I didn't want him to touch me there. Anywhere, but there. I did not understand the abrupt rush of _possessiveness_ that compelled me to wrench myself away from Jacob's grip. I pushed him away, our loud breathing falling in the space between us.

He stared at me, his eyes heavy lidded but confused. My fingers traced the curve of neck almost absentmindedly as I stared back at him, uncomfortable with the way he was looking at me.

"What the fuck, Bella? I thought you wanted this," he said harshly.

"When did I say that, Jake?" I asked angrily. "I asked you to tell me you loved me, not to _attack_ me!"

Jake raised his eyebrows sarcastically. "We've been together two years, Bella. I think it's perfectly rational that I've started thinking about sex."

My own voice was equally as sarcastic. "Jeez, I'm so glad we had this talk. I mean, I guess because _you_ decided we should have sex, I'm right on board."

"Come _on_, Bella! You're not a prude."

I gritted my teeth. "I don't want to have sex, Jake!"

"We don't have to, Bella! I'm just saying, maybe we should try something more. You know, like second base, and then we'll build it up from there —" he broke off when I slapped him, my hand connecting with his face, the sound of it reverberating around the abruptly quiet room. My hand stung from the force of the blow, and I flinched away from him, extremely guilty.

"I think you should go," I said quietly. I couldn't deal with this now.

"Bella —" Jake started, his jaw rigid.

"GET OUT!" I shouted, pointing toward the door.

Wordlessly, Jacob strode toward the door, slamming it on his way out. I flinched as I heard the front door slam almost as violently, and sank onto my bed, my head in my hands. My shoulders shook as I cried, and I curled up into a ball on my duvet. I had hit Jake. Whatever he said or did, he didn't deserve for me to turn on him like that. He _had_ made a rational request — we had been together for two years, it wasn't his fault that I wasn't ready to take our relationship to the next level. I didn't know what was holding me back, only that I had taken it out on Jake and I was terrified that I was losing him.

Slowly, I levered myself off the bed and into my art room, taking up a box of thick, silver pencils and brought them back with me into my bedroom.

I closed my eyes and drew from the heart, my fingers drawing smooth curves over the black canvas. I did not recognize myself anymore, as if I were seeing myself from a stranger's eyes and my life was something twisted, bizarre. I was terrified that I was driving Jacob away but I was powerless to stop myself. Was that why he couldn't tell me he loved me? Was I becoming someone he didn't recognize — that it was _me_ who was changing and not him? There was a time when we had both believed that we would be together forever, that we were two parts of the same whole and everything had just… _fit_. But my jigsaw was askew now — nothing fit. Not anymore.

The vampire had been right not to kill me. I was destroying Jacob all on my own, and I didn't know how to stop. It was like careening down a steep cliff in a vehicle with no brakes and eventually I was going to crash.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. I bit my lip, staring at my latest creation as it seemed to stare back at me. A pair of silver eyes, silent and watching, surveyed the room around me — a stranger's eyes.

And they weren't mine.


	6. Voyeur

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
**

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**5. VOYEUR  
**

* * *

**E.  
**

_Just don't think about it, _Tanya thought, her thoughts laced with frustration as I sank my teeth once more into the neck of a horny blonde who smelled of horrendously bad perfume. Seriously, where did humans get off thinking this stuff was… _good_?

"I'm trying," I growled, startling the girl I had pushed against the wall. Unfortunately, she jerked slightly and my teeth ripped her skin further. She let out a yelp of pain. "_You're_ not helping," I told her, ignoring the flash of alarm in her eyes as she noticed the blood on my lips.

_Oh my God, what the fuck —?_

"Aw, Edward! Now you _have_ to kill her," Tanya lamented, appearing beside me, her hands on her hips with a fucking cute frustrated expression on her face. It wasn't my fault that I hadn't gotten some in weeks and I suddenly found any female of the vampire variety attractive. I even groped Rosalie's ass a little bit this morning when she heard me playing my modified version of _I Kissed A Girl_, which came out something like, "I fucked a girl, and she liked it… her blood was sweeter than chocolate…" and came upstairs to inquire about my mental health again.

It didn't bother me as much as Tanya that I had failed once again — I still didn't care about killing humans, but it was a useful talent to have: self—control. After a century, it was a novelty, learning something new.

The girl was struggling against me now, her eyes wide with fear and panic, but I held her pinned with one hand against her arm. I wasn't even paying much attention to her, because Tanya was mentally assaulting me for murdering so many people on her turf.

_It's going to end up on the news, you fucking asshole and then what? I'll tell you what! They'll launch an investigation into the club, and suddenly Sierra, Senna and I are made out to be psychopaths or something! I mean, seriously, would you ever for one fucking moment in your life get your head out of your ass and think of somebody _ELSE _ for a change? I _LIKE _ it here!_

"Are you on drugs or something?" I demanded. "Your mental voice has gone all fucking squeaky, and I'd swear you're seconds away from hitting ultrasonic…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Edward!" Tanya growled in frustration.

"I love it when you talk dirty, baby," I smirked.

"For the love of all that is _holy_!" She stamped her foot at me — _Tanya. _Stamped her foot. I raised my eyes at her, a little stunned.

Then I didn't really know what happened.

I think I jumped on her.

Somehow, in the space of 0.2 seconds, we had toppled onto the floor, and my arms were around her, tearing at her dress as our mouths mashed together, tongues tangling and frustrated moans echoing from _both _of us. I heard a squeak of surprise behind us but I couldn't concentrate on _that_, because Tanya was unbuckling my belt and we were rolling around on the floor like animals.

That's when I started laughing. I had spent the last month trying to learn even a _sliver_ of self—control, and here I was, tearing Tanya's clothes off like I was a seventeen year old hormonal teenager ruled by his cock who couldn't even _spell_ the words self—control, never mind _use_ them.

And Tanya started laughing too, because she got the joke and I think we were scaring the girl behind us who was practically glued to the wall in shock, but the thing was I didn't even care. _I_ was getting laid.

"It's about _time_," Tanya grinned, rolling on top of me.

"Have to say," I smirked. "It was the expletives that got to me. I can't resist a whore with a dirty mouth."

"Whore?" Tanya repeated, folding her arms across her voluptuous chest and scowling down at me as if she wasn't straddling my dick. I groaned, my head making a loud thwacking sound on the concrete floor as I stared up at her in annoyance.

"Need I even mention Phoenix?"

Tanya rolled her eyes. "Touché."

It was common knowledge in various covens in Washington that during the nineteenth century, Tanya had worked in a brothel in Phoenix. Quite successfully.

We rolled again and I moved over her, bored of our conversation. I found that more and more over the past few weeks, talking with Tanya was becoming predictable. Nothing about her was holding my attention for more than five minutes and though I was comfortable with our "arrangement", I wondered if it was time to start looking for someone else to vent my frustration with. My first choice would have been Rosalie, but obviously she came with Emmett, so unless I could convince her to try a threesome, I wasn't going to get laid by _her_ any time soon. Sierra and Senna… maybe, if they came as a packaged deal. But while they acted all cute and cuddly, man, were they_ vicious_.

Tanya was rocking against me, unaware that I was running through candidates that could replace her because my body was acting of it's own violation. Her fingers entwined in my hair and tugged my face down to hers, her lips moving against mine as she moaned greedily, her long, smooth legs wrapping around mine. And I hauled her even closer, thrusting into her hard because that's what my body wanted, and though it was callous of me, I used Tanya because she was under me, close to me… and not the girl I wanted.

"_Edward!" _she groaned as I began to move faster, pounding into her as my frustration slipped through. I remembered she liked it when I was rough, I could not hurt her easily, which was why I enjoyed fucking girls like her so much. I could _play_.

And while she thrashed and writhed beneath me, my mind slipped. Again.

I think I was truly disturbed. I'd never given it much thought before because I was too busy _playing_. I killed for fun, not because I was hungry. Listening to them scream gave me a weird high that I didn't analyze because I had never thought to. I rewrote the lyrics to annoying pop songs because I was bored. I groped Rosalie's ass when I hadn't fucked anyone in weeks. I was like a century old pervert. With fangs.

The thought made me laugh, but Tanya couldn't hear me over the sound of her own voice, chanting my name like a record. And for once, it annoyed me. I already knew I had stunning sexual prowess.

But if I kept getting mentally sidetracked, I was never going to come, so I tried to concentrate on her muscles vibrating around my cock. My eyes fluttered shut and I let my body take over… but my concentration was slipping, but then I was coming and I couldn't stop my thoughts from shifting and…

_"Bella_."

Tanya stilled beneath me, and my head went into hyper drive. Where the fuck had _that_ come from?

"_What_?" Tanya demanded. She pushed me off her and I rolled off her immediately, scrambling for my clothes as I tried to figure out where my sudden outburst had come from. As break ups went, however, saying another person's name during sex was effective. Tanya was staring daggers at me, her mouth pursed into her trademark annoying pout as she waited for me to explain. She'd have to wait until I had an explanation for _myself_.

Bella? She was possibly the most uncorrupted human on the planet, someone I knew I would never relate to. I couldn't understand why I had thought of her in that instant, only that I was having second thoughts about not killing her. When I thought back to the perfect set—up I had created, when I had come so close to killing her, I couldn't understand what had made me stop. After three weeks, I was convinced that it had been a small error of judgment, thinking her so innocent. And why should that stop me? It wasn't like I operated with a conscience — I wasn't all for "saving babies", because I knew that they would grow up to be just like their parents, sex—hungry, money—hungry, selfish — there was no way that this girl could have so much control over my non—existent conscience. And over the last few days, I had become more resolved to once again hunt her down and actually kill her this time. Was it the excitement of the chase that had made her name slip past my lips?

_Edward, for fuck's sake EXPLAIN!_

I glanced at Tanya, who hadn't moved a single inch after she had pulled down her wrinkled skirt. There was no flash of lust now as I considered how long her smooth legs looked, or how her breasts heaved as she breathed angrily.

I didn't even bother apologizing. "Oops."

One brow rose on her perfect face. "_Really_, Edward?!"

"Listen, Tanya." I folded my arms, leaning back against the opposite wall. "We've had a fun ride and all, but you know how easily distracted our kind get…"

"Who. Is. She?!" Tanya demanded, her voice more of a growl.

I grinned. "A vampire I met in LA two weeks ago. Fantastic legs, blonde hair… loud as _fuck_."

She slapped me, even making my cheek sting a little bit, but it was better than the alternative. I couldn't have her hunting down Bella on her own — she was _mine_.

"Fuck you, Masen!" she spat, turning on her heel and storming out of the storeroom, mentally running through every curse she had ever learned over the years. And there was a _lot_.

I felt oddly relieved now that I was free of her, even if she hadn't been a burden.

I heard a quiet whimper beside me, and I glanced down at the girl who hadn't moved an inch since I had pushed her up against the wall about twenty minutes ago.

"Sorry about that," I smirked, glancing down at her torn neck where blood was seeping steadily from the wound. It was beginning to clot, the dark smell wafting towards me, drawing me in. "Now, where were we…?"

I grabbed a fistful of her hair in my hand and snapped her head back as she whimpered in pain, her thoughts panicky and not entirely lucid. When I pressed my lips to her neck, the frightened noises got louder but they began to die out as I drew the blood into my mouth, hissing in contentment. She tasted surprisingly good, behind the putrid smell of her perfume. Addictive, almost. I tried to practice what Tanya had told me, to not think about it, to try _anything_ in my power to stop, but I knew that it was a lost cause. Humans may have been useless but sometimes they just tasted _so good_!

Her pulse died in her chest, but I did not feel remorse. Why hadn't I been able to do this to Bella? I could still remember the faint taste of her blood through her skin… and I groaned involuntarily, milking the last of the girl's blood into my mouth. I knew she would taste better than the girl in my arms, that I would enjoy every single drop that oozed from her veins and into my awaiting mouth.

I threw the girl outside and went out to find Emmett, because I needed to clean up my mess before I could do anything about finding Bella. It frustrated me that I couldn't just go now, but somehow I knew my patience would be rewarded.

It wasn't hard to find Emmett. He was charging for me, his face livid, as if I had assaulted Rosalie or something.

"What?" I said innocently.

"_Bella_? REALLY?" he bellowed. He crossed his arms over his massive chest, glaring at me. He knew I didn't fuck humans — what was he getting so upset about?

"What did you _do_?" Rosalie demanded, appearing behind her massive boyfriend. She, too, was glaring at me.

I put my hands up defensively. "What do you mean, what did I do? I did what I always do!" I frowned. "Or _who_ I always do," I corrected.

"You deserve to be neutered," Rosalie growled.

"Whoa!" I backed up. "What's that now?"

Emmett rolled his eyes. "You said another girl's name during sex, made up some lame excuse about a fake other girl and you didn't even apologize. Man, even _I_ know women better than that."

"And what's the alternative?" I demanded, slightly annoyed that they were ganging up on me. "Tell her I'm obsessed with destroying a hunter, have decided to kill his girlfriend who is annoyingly innocent and that I happened to say her name because my mind was flipping through ways of killing her?"

"Okay, what?" Rosalie asked, shaking her head in confusion.

"If I told her who Bella was," I said slowly, "she would hunt her down, and kill her. I do not want Tanya to kill Bella. Bella is _mine_."

Emmett raised his eyebrows and a racy image crossed his mind that made me want to punch him.

"To _kill_," I clarified through gritted teeth.

"You're still a fucking idiot," Rosalie muttered.

"She'll get over it." I shrugged. "She does have eternity."

"Seriously, Edward! Do you _want_ me to hit you?!"

Ignoring Rosalie, I turned to Emmett. "There's a girl in the back. Help?"

He sighed, nodding. He followed me back into the storeroom where he threw the girl's corpse over his shoulder and gestured for me to lead him out. It was tricky, but we had developed a system of sneaking out into the back alley and taking to the roofs before someone realized that the girl Emmett was carrying wasn't passed out, but dead.

"What do you want to do with her tonight?" Emmett asked me as we stepped out onto the street, glaring at the few people that happened to stumble by, insanely drunk. I didn't even bother reading their thoughts — they were all the fucking same.

"Burn her," I said immediately, not even thinking about it. I had been randomly cycling through ways of disposing of corpses ever since Emmett's burial idea. It was fun the first time, but it wasn't often you found open graves.

We headed south of town, skipping over the rooftops undetected until we got to the rundown area of Port Angeles. We snuck into an empty warehouse and while Emmett laid her down in the center of the room, I started pulling apart sections of the wall, ripping the timber from it's frame. It was enough to make a pyre, but not enough for the entire building to crumble.

I stacked the wood neatly and set her body down on top. She had a cigarette lighter in her pocket that I took out, while Emmett took out a bottle of beer that he had taken from the back of the club and poured it evenly over the pyre.

As soon as I put flame to wood, the whole thing went up in a blaze.

I didn't even wait to see what happened, I just turned on my heel and strode out of the warehouse. Emmett didn't bother calling after me, he wasn't concerned about my erratic behavior. Having him spy on Bella for me while I was incapacitated by Dead Man's Blood had taught him not to ask questions. He didn't understand my quest for vengeance.

I walked across town, my footsteps slow and deliberate. I would not rush my triumph — had I rushed that moment in the shop? Would I have killed her had I taken time to plot the act, to prepare myself? I walked through the town toward her part of town, the quiet, neighborly side. She had a small, quaint house with a generic garden in the front, full of disgusting flowers and whatnot. A large red Chevy truck was parked outside on the drive, and looked almost older than I was, which was saying something. No lights were on.

I glanced at my watch — it was three am. I knew which room was hers. I climbed the back gate of her house and landed with a soft thud on the other side in the dark garden. The smell of flowers wasn't as strong here, it was more wild. Nice. I walked a few paces away from the house and then turned, taking a running jump at her window ledge. I made it easily, my fingers curling around the sill.

I concentrated for a moment, dangling precariously from the ledge, but the drop didn't bother me. It wouldn't be fatal. Inside the house, I could hear the soft, heavy thuds of two hearts. I closed my eyes, expanding my mental reach.

_Bella with a gun? Why would Billy give her a gun? She would probably kill herself before she actually put it to good use! What was that man thinking! Putting my baby girl through that!_

Only one dream reached my mental ears. Her father, I presumed. He continued to allude to "Billy", who I knew to be Jacob's father. I was surprised that this single man wasn't dreaming of something more… textbook. Worry was common for parents of young children, but what single man dreamed of his nineteen year old daughter with a gun in her hand? Perhaps this was where she got it from, this… _innocence_.

I listened harder, picking up trails of thoughts and dreams from other surrounding houses, but they were not the voices I was looking for. She remained ever silent. I levered myself up onto the windowsill, and peered inside.

It was her room, definitely. I could see my reflection in the opposite mirror, a dark shadow against her closed window. Her dresser was cluttered with books and a hairbrush that still had strands of hair tangled around the bristles. Her closet was partly open, a few clothes caught between the door and the frame.

Her bed was further back on the left, shrouded in shadow. My hands clenched tighter on the window as my gaze fell on her sleeping form, her dark brown hair splayed around her head like a halo. There was a little furrow on the bridge of her nose, and as I watched, her mouth trembled and parted slightly.

Slowly, I lifted the window and slid inside her dark room, careful not to make a single noise. If she woke up, would I be able to go through with this?

"Jake."

I froze.

I watched warily as she moved slightly, her brow twitching as her head shifted against her pillow. Her eyes remained closed. That's when I realized she did not think I was her boyfriend, climbing into her bedroom for some kind of midnight tryst, unbeknownst to her father.

Bella talked in her sleep.

"Eric… Eric fell!" Her brow became screwed up as she winced in her sleep, her voice shaking. "Jake…"

I was too fascinated to move. Her voice was low and clear, like I remembered. Not grating, like most females. Slowly, her face began to relax. I tore my eyes away from her face, finally taking in my surroundings in more detail.

It was then I noticed the painting. The paint was not fresh, but it was not something that had been bought or photographed. It had been created here, I could smell it. It was kind of creepy, staring at a painting of silver eyes, peering through the darkness straight at you. As if they saw the _real_ me. Penetrating.

Had Bella painted this?

The eyes, the silver penetrating eyes, seemed almost familiar. They were not soft nor wide like Bella's. They weren't narrow, or slightly tilted like Jacob's. Perhaps they were Charlie's? Why would Bella have such a painting like this in her room? Did it not bother her that something _stared_ at her while she slept?

The mystery that was Bella began to deepen, and my earlier motives almost forgotten, I slipped onto the rocking chair that faced her bed. My eyes fell on her form again and I sat, unmoving, as her chest rose and fell slowly with every inhale and exhale. Her heart continued to beat evenly in her chest.

I could smell her from where I sat. Sweet, like apples or something. Not like the awful flowers in her garden. Or perfume. I couldn't detect any perfume bottles in her room, though there was a heavy smell of paint emanating from one of the rooms in the house. I was too fascinated by Bella to check it out.

"Jake…" she sighed again, the furrow reappearing on her brow. "Do you love me, Jake?"

As I stared at Bella, it was like her story began to unravel. The sound of that _bastard's_ name on her lips made me stiffen, the want to kill her arising as fast as it had suddenly died. But the insecurity in her voice, the sadness, prevented me from moving.

She moaned, twisting beneath her duvet. "I love you, Jake." Her brow contorted again. "Why can't you say it back?"

My fists tightened around the arms of her rocking chair and I almost snapped pieces of wood from the frame. But in her dream, Jacob did not tell her that he loved her and she grew progressively more restless, her voice laden with hurt.

Her agitation made _me _agitated and I stepped away from the rocking chair lest I break it.

He just _loved_ destroying things, didn't he? Manipulating her into loving him, and hurting her like this? For some reason, the pain in her voice seemed to feed the flames, the intense anger that burned through my entire body deeper than Dead Man's Blood could ever reach. There was no reason that justified his existence.

I watched as Bella tossed once more in her sleep, her voice shaking as she apologized to no—one in particular, managing to tack on another "Jake" at the end of her sentence. Hearing his name on her lips destroyed any rational thought I might have been capable of making.

Instinctively, I inched closer to Bella, closer to her warmth, her voice… her heart. I was so close, I was leaning slightly over her on the bed, my hand braced on her pillow close to her head. I stared down at her, utterly conflicted. Her smell was intoxicating. She would be delicious, I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. Her death would destroy Jacob Black, because despite her dreams I _knew_ that he loved her. I had read it in his thoughts. But that would mean that she would be dead.

As I stared down at this fragile, pale human, she did something I had not expected. She relaxed completely, shifting slightly closer to my hand so that her dark hair grazed my fingers. Her brow smoothed out, her breath softening.

"But what's black and white to them?" she whispered, almost confused.

Somehow, I knew she was talking about _us_.

Vampires.

I felt an odd, constricting emotion fold around my chest as I listened to the confusion… the sadness in her voice. She did not hate us. Me. Not like Jacob Black did. In a simple sentence, I realized that she knew it was not as simple as murdering people for us. It was a necessity to survive.

I had never known of a human who could see that perspective, and I knew then that I could not be strong enough to kill Bella. Innocent, beautiful Bella… how had I ever thought I could kill her? I would not never be strong enough to kill someone so… there wasn't even a word to describe her. She was not human, she was an angel.

My hatred for Jacob flared to life. He did not deserve someone so _good_. It made me sick to imagine him thinking of her, his predictable human mind considering predictable, vulgar things that involved Bella in his thick fucking skull. I wanted to break him for ever touching something so pure. For putting his hands on her and assuring her with words of love while he took from her and never gave her anything remotely close to the emotion. Humans could only love if they had a heart.

And Jacob Black's heart was dead.

* * *

**B.  
**

When I woke up that morning, I had the strangest feeling that I was being watched. I shivered delicately, pulling my dressing gown towards me from the bottom of the bed as I glanced toward the window. It was shut firmly, though the room was cold. Had Charlie forgotten to set the timer on the heating?

I reached for my cell phone, speed dialing Jake's number without bothering to check the time. Jake was always up.

He answered after three rings.

"Bella?" he asked, slightly pissed. "So you're talking to me now?"

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I didn't want to fight with Jake, but this circle we had been dancing in was getting old. Things had to start changing, or I was going to lose my mind.

"Come for a walk with me?" I suggested.

He didn't answer for a moment, but then he muttered, "Fine."

I hung up, and scrambled to get out of bed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater. I rechecked my window before I left, but it was definitely closed. While I waited for Jake to arrive, I put some toast in the toaster and drummed my fingers impatiently on the countertop. There was so sign of blood in the kitchen now; I had gotten every last drop with the bleach. But it lingered there in my memory and it made me uneasy to be in the kitchen for so long without anything to occupy my mind.

I jumped when the toast popped, and hastily grabbed the bread, not even bothering to spread butter on it before stuffing it into my mouth. I wasn't hungry, but I hated lying to Charlie when he asked if I had had breakfast. He worried about me too much, but I loved him for it.

When Jake knocked on the front door, I grabbed my coat and followed him down the drive, and onto the sidewalk. He did not take my hand, and it hurt that he was pulling even further away from me.

We walked for awhile in silence, until finally I couldn't take it anymore.

"We need to talk, Jake," I said quietly.

"No kidding." His voice was bitter.

I took a deep breath, stopping. "Please. Just, try to hear me out." He opened his mouth to reply but I stopped him, my hand on his arm. "Please?"

He nodded, unable to meet my eyes.

"I think," I started, frowning. "I think that neither of us are talking to each other anymore. _Both_ of us are hiding something, and it's causing problems because we were always honest with each other until now."

"Bella!" he said exasperatedly. "I'm trying to _protect_ you!"

"And so am _I_!" I looked away from him, running my hand over my head in frustration.

"Eric," he stated, his voice cold.

He finally met my gaze, and a dark, cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

"I was going to tell you," I started weakly.

"Save it," Jacob spat. "I was so fucking _worried_ about you and you —" He couldn't force the rest of the sentence out of his mouth. He raked his hands through his hair in frustration, almost tearing out the roots.

"I didn't know, Jake," I said in a small voice, backing away slightly from him. I was starting to cry again, and I hated myself for it but I couldn't prevent the moisture from pooling in my eyes. "You never told me."

Jacob glanced at my retreating form, his face softening. "Oh, God, Bella, I'm sorry…"

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me tightly. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks but I lifted my arms and gripped him back because I was so terrified that he would let go. He shushing me quietly into my hair because I was trembling a little against him but it had been so long since he had hugged me properly and I was afraid that the fragile truce would dissolve as suddenly as it had formed.

"Jake, we need to stop hiding things from each other," I murmured against his jacket. My tears were soaking into the material, and a dark patch was forming on the breast pocket.

"I know," he sighed. "But not now, Bella. We need to talk, but not now."

I nodded. I would have preferred to talk now, but at least he had promised to talk in the first place. I pulled away slowly from him and he wrapped my cold hands in his, rubbing them gently as he tried to share his warmth. He smiled sadly at me.

"I love you," I told him.

"Yeah, me too," he said awkwardly, still rubbing my fingers. He still wouldn't say it, and I sighed tiredly, glancing down at our hands. His skin was much darker than mine because he was Native American, and I was extremely pale. I don't know why it bothered me now, it had never bothered me before that there were so many differences between us.

"I have to go soon. I'm working today," I murmured.

Jake's brow furrowed in a dark frown, he did not want me to go back there. To be honest, I wasn't mad on going back myself. I hadn't been back since Eric's death, but Mrs. Newton was insisting that I come back because my sick days were almost up and if I wanted to quit, I had to hand in my two weeks notice.

"It's just for a couple of hours," I said, trying to reassure Jake.

He nodded after a moment, his face resigned. He dropped one of my hands and laced his fingers through the other, squeezing my fingers tightly. "I'll walk you."

We walked in silence to Newton's Olympic Outfitters, and he dropped me off with a quick kiss. I suspected he would be hanging around outside for a long time, but it didn't really bother me. I felt a little freaked out about coming back and knowing Jacob was probably going to be out there made me feel… safe.

I was in the process of hanging up my coat when Mike appeared beside me, his blond hair gelled up as usual, only today he was wearing surfing shorts and a loose t—shirt, like it was the middle of July. Why would someone dress like _that_ in the beginning of February?

"Hey, Bella! I heard you were coming back today," Mike beamed.

Oh. That explained it.

"Hi, Mike," I answered warily. My gaze flickered toward the storeroom, but the door was closed. I made my way over to the till and took out _Emma_, flipping to the page I had last stopped at. It was a weekday, so business would be slow. It also meant that I would be stuck with Mike all day. Mike hadn't gone back to school since Eric's funeral — he was "mourning" for his friend.

Mike levered himself up on the counter beside me, glancing at my book curiously. It was obvious that his curiosity was entirely feigned because I had not once ever seen Mike with a book in his hand, or had him talk to me with a genuine interest in what I was reading.

"So," he said eventually. I peaked up at him from behind my hair. "How are you and… Jacob, is it?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Fine, why?"

Mike shrugged. "Just wondering." He went back to staring at my book, and I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head as he thought. I was uncomfortable with where this was going.

"Uh," he said again, nervously. "See, there's this thing… Friday night, the uh… Spring Fling —"

"Mike —" I interrupted awkwardly.

"Excuse me?"

Mike turned and his jaw fell almost comically, almost hitting the floor as his voice cut off suddenly. I glanced up to see what he was staring at, and I think I had a similar reaction.

The three girls standing in front of us were unlike any girls either of us had ever seen. Two were identical, a subtle olive tone to their pale skin. Their exquisitely long, mahogany colored hair fell to their elbows, falling gracefully around their shoulders, and they were tall, and supermodel thin. The kind of girls you saw on television and one day dreamed of being. The one in the middle, the one who had spoken to Mike, was a tall, supermodel blonde girl with a smooth, symmetrical face and pouting lips.

"Y—yeah?" Mike stammered.

"We were just wondering if you had a K6800 Steiner…?" she asked in a soft, musical voice. Mike nodded like an obedient puppy.

"I'll check the store room," he said in an odd, squeaky voice.

The girl grinned at him, and he practically ran towards the storeroom. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the girl flicked her platinum blonde hair behind her shoulders and turned to me, her smile slightly more real.

"He's going to be in there for awhile," she told me, unapologetic. "My cousin has informed me that the K6800 Steiner doesn't even exist yet."

The girls behind her giggled, leaning casually against the nearest shelf.

I glanced between them warily, my gaze focusing on their eyes, their skin…

I slipped off my stool, backing away slightly as a ball of fear erupted in my stomach, and the smell of Eric's blood flooded my nose from my memory. It was not rational, but I was more afraid now than I had been before, when I had been so sure that the vampire would kill me, when he had pressed his cold, hard lips to my neck…

"You're here to kill me," I said slowly, my stomach clenching tightly.

The blonde girl looked taken aback, almost offended as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "No, Bella."

"You know my name," I said shakily, my fingers curling around the radiator behind me. I had backed myself flush against the wall now, and my knuckles began to turn white as I gripped the cold metal.

"Oh, sorry," the girl apologized quickly. "I'm Rosalie. This is Senna and Sierra." She gestured toward the girl's behind her. They nodded, smiling at me.

"I don't…" I said slowly, my hands still gripping the heater. They were vampires, I was completely sure. Were they somehow involved in the feud that Jacob was embroiled in? I could not understand the blonde's — Rosalie's — friendliness towards me and it was making me uneasy.

"Edward's been a bit fucked up lately," one of the others said, their brow furrowing slightly. "And we came to investigate why —"

"Edward," I whispered, my fingers unconsciously straying back to my neck. The bronze haired vampire, the vampire who had killed Eric, who had tried to kill me but hadn't…

I realized Rosalie was staring at me curiously. "Has he bitten you?"

I shook my head vehemently, remembering the man that Billy and Charlie had brought home all those weeks ago, how terrified and in pain he had been… Jake pulling the gun on him. "No."

"You know what, I like her," the last girl announced, glancing behind her at the shelves of tents.

"Hmm, me too," the second twin agreed. Rosalie rolled her eyes, running her fingers through her hair almost absentmindedly as she threw another smile in my direction. "See you, Bella."

I was too stunned to stop them as they strode out of the shop, laughing amongst themselves. What had that been about? They _liked_ me? Confused, I threw down my book and ran through the conversation in my mind — I hadn't actually said anything much to them, had I? There had been something else to their visit, something I couldn't grasp but something pivotal to the reason I was still alive because the vampire… Edward… hadn't tried to kill me, as I had been so sure he would. The pieces of the puzzle were all screwed up again, and I was even more at a loss to understand what _I_ had to do with all this. The sooner Jake and I talked the better.

I sighed tiredly as Mike strode out of the storeroom, looking slightly embarrassed.

He glanced around. "Hey, where did they go?"

I rolled my eyes, and grabbed my book.


	7. Breaking Point

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
**

* * *

**7. BREAKING POINT  
**

* * *

**E.  
**

I felt like the villain in a badly produced horror movie, a knife in one hand and the heart of my foe in the other. I promised to myself long ago that I _would_ hold his heart in my hand, but in the last week I had come to realize that the word "heart" could be construed in so many ways.

Jacob Black's heart was dead. Yet still, it beat in his chest… and it lay, strewn uncomfortably beneath a duvet, her chest rising and falling softly as she breathed, her wide, brown eyes hidden from me from beneath her closed lids. But instead of his heart in my hand, it was a rotten apple, and I methodically peeled through the layers to distract myself from moving toward her from my perch on her rocking chair, particularly when she would cry out suddenly, or murmur sadly in her sleep.

It was a compulsion, making sure she was safe. I did not question the obsessive behavior that brought me here every night to her room, where I sat, a plan forming in my head as I watched her sleep and rewrote deplorable pop songs in my head. It was just instinctive.

It took a week for the actual plan to truly begin to take shape in my head.

Sunlight began to creep across the timber floorboards of her room, but I didn't move as I would have. Her heartbeat remained even in her chest and I knew she wouldn't wake for another few minutes. As the sun touched my rocking chair, I shifted my fingers under the golden light, watching as my skin glittered faintly. Sunlight did not hurt me, though I preferred to move during the night, under the light of the moon. It wasn't common to meet someone whose skin shone like a million smooth faceted diamonds walking down the streets of Port Angeles.

I heard her father's heartbeat begin to accelerate slightly as he woke, coughing softly in his room as he heaved himself out of bed, the springs on the mattress squeaking.

_Where did I leave my trousers…. Hope Bella has enough for breakfast, I keep meaning to go to the grocery store…_

I tuned him out, my focus returning to the slumbering girl in front of me. Today I would act, today my plan would unfold, I decided. Slowly, the neighborhood began to wake up. Charlie left for work, leaving in the rusty red Chevy out front. It roared to life, and I was surprised it didn't wake Bella.

My hand tightened around the knife when I heard the doorbell ring and _his_ thoughts, his impatience…

I whirled just in time as Bella shot up in bed, rubbing her face tiredly and shoving her hair out of her face. I slipped out into the hall, out of sight. She shuffled around her room for a few seconds as the doorbell rang again, longer this time, and I gritted my teeth.

Bella flew out of her room in a light blue dressing gown and I slipped back inside as she went to answer the door. I resumed my seat on her rocking chair, my knife now safely tucked into the breast pocket of my shirt. Her room was more cluttered than usual, more books scattered on her locker, and in a pile on the floor beside her bed. They were mostly classics, I noticed. Some were books on art. Modern, Historical, Perception art… A _lot_ of books on art. It solved the question of whether or not Bella had painted the creepy eye—staring canvas behind me.

"Hey, Jake." I heard her low voice on the floor below as she finally flung open the door.

_Finally_, Jacob was thinking as he leaned in to kiss her quickly on the lips, while sneaking a look at her body through the gape in her dressing gown. My fists clenched around the arm of the chair, but I did not move.

"Hi, Bells, can I come in?" Jake asked, already moving past her. She shut the door, and I saw her brow furrow in his mind. He was not bothered by it, I noticed. He had become used to her constant frowning. He didn't care anymore. My fists tightened on the wood and it made a slight splintering sound.

They went into the kitchen. Their words echoed the dream that Bella had been having last night; they needed to talk to each other. But Jacob was restless in the house, remembering how he had shot a man on the dining room table. He was still completely sure that it had been the right thing to do, but it still unsettled him, remembering. I gritted my teeth. And he thought _I_ was a monster?

"Can I have some of that?" I heard him ask. The smell of fresh toast wafted upstairs, followed by the distinct crunch of someone biting the crust. Jake swallowed heartily, but there was no accompanying bite. Had he taken Bella's breakfast? A low hiss escaped my lips.

"Do you… do you want to come over to my place?" Jake asked. Bella was silent for a moment, but I realized that she had nodded when Jake's thoughts swerved in a new direction.

_Billy will be out. Time to talk about what happened in her room — I'll probably have to approach it more carefully, though…_

This was accompanied by an image of what had happened in her room and it took an excessive amount of strength of will not to kill him then. Did he actually listen to a word that came out of her mouth? Could he read her at all? Bella was pure. Bella wasn't like him, Bella could _never_ be like him — I had to make sure of it. She was intelligent, but not once did he ask of her interest in books. She was extremely artistic, but he had scoffed at her painting during the memory in his head.

"Let me get dressed first," Bella said, and then I heard her coming, her footfall soft on the stairs. I levered myself out of the chair and slipped toward the window.

The door clicked open softly. As soon as she had stepped inside, I flew at her, a little more forcefully than necessary but I didn't hear any bones shatter as her back hit the floor and her mouth opened beneath my cold hand.

Her eyes widened as she stared up at me, fear in their dark, brown depths… but something else? Fascination?

"Bella?!" _Damn it._ Jacob had heard Bella being slammed into the wall, and he was flying up the stairs now, heading for us.

"Bella," I said quietly, seriously. "I'm going to remove my hand."

She stared at me, her brows narrowed and her heart sprinting in her chest.

"If you scream, _I will kill him_. Do you understand?"

She nodded slightly, the furrow deepening in distress.

For the first time in just under a century, I felt guilty. _I_ was the cause of her distress. It was the only flaw I had not anticipated in my plan; emotion. My obsession with keeping her safe was getting out of control — since when had I ever felt guilty about hurting a human? But _this_ human… What was it about Bella that made me… _feel?_ My life had begun as a nightmare, all those years ago. There had been snatches of stolen emotion, when I had despised myself, had hoped that it would somehow be better. When I had accepted that it would not, I became the creature I was now. I did not loathe myself, I loathed those I had once been like. I was selfish, a control freak. But why could I not be selfish with _her?_ Why could I not kill her and get it over with?

The sound of Jacob's footsteps became louder on the stairs.

Slowly, I removed my hand.

Bella didn't scream. She just continued to stare at me, frozen. I half—wished that she _would_ scream. That she would put an end to this mess. But I knew she wouldn't. She was what I was not. Unselfish.

"Tell him you're fine. You fell," I instructed softly as Jacob called her name again.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I'm fine, Jake!" Her voice trembled a little, but that could have been because she had fallen. She was winded. "I just fell, that's all."

Jacob hesitated outside the door, but his thoughts were not suspicious. Just impatient.

"Hurry on, will you?"

I nodded to her, and she bit her lip. "Okay."

We waited in silence as Jacob trudged back downstairs, his thoughts switching to the conversation he imagined they would be having later at his apartment. I tuned him out, focusing on the girl in front of me.

"Edward, right?" she muttered, a flash of defiance in her eyes now that Jacob was out of the way. Of course, I had forgotten. Bella did not care what happened to herself, as long as those she loved were okay. Her lack of self—preservation was almost as bad as my need to protect her. How had she learned my name? Had Jacob told her?

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" she demanded, her voice fierce despite the fact that she was whispering. It was hard to resist to urge to laugh at her; she tried to sound like an angry lion, but instead only managed to sound like an indignant kitten. I didn't answer her as I debated how best to do this.

"Are you going to kill me this time?" she hissed, her frustration growing as the kitten got her claws out.

"Do I have to gag you again?" I asked irritably. "Just be quiet, okay?"

She continued to stare at me, her dark brown eyes boring into mine… and I decided was cursed. Because my mind was slipping and I couldn't concentrate on my plan, or suppressing the guilt — or _anything_. Except the fact that she had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. She really was an angel. An angel put on this earth to fucking drive me _insane_.

"I need you to listen to me carefully," I said quietly.

Wordlessly, she nodded.

"Jacob has just asked you to go to his apartment to talk," I stated. "You're going to go home with him, and you're not going to let him manipulate the conversation, okay?"

That furrow reappeared on her brow, but she was still nodding, however confused she was. My tone grew hard as I considered the conversation that Jacob _wanted_ to have.

"If you don't follow my instructions, I'm going to kill him," I told her. "Do you understand?"

_"Yes_," she hissed, her eyes flashing at the reminder of the threat to her boyfriend's life. I could not understand at all how she fell for his lies so easily. But I knew that Jacob could be persuasive. He would do his best to manipulate the conversation, but it was imperative that Bella follow my instructions. A lot more than Jacob's life and my revenge depended on it.

_She _depended on it.

"Good," I said. "Now. You're going to follow Jacob back to his apartment." My lips twitched into an almost satisfied smirk.

"And then what?" she demanded.

"Then, you're going to break his heart."

* * *

**B.**

"_Then, you're going to break his heart_."

I stared numbly at the most beautiful, ethereal person I had ever seen in my life with ice slowly flooding my veins.

"Break his heart?" I repeated softly, my voice small. Any defiance I had felt had suddenly melted away with the realization that _I_ was not the person this vampire – _Edward_ – wished to destroy. Jacob. _My_ Jacob.

Without him, I was nothing. Destroying him would destroy _me_.

Edward sneered at me. "Tell him you don't want him anymore. _Make_ him believe you."

"I – I'm a bad liar," I stammered out, my voice panicky.

"Well let's hope you get really good, really soon, then, shall we?"

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I knew I had to do what he told me. I couldn't sentence Jacob to death like that, no matter how much I loved him.

Numbly, I nodded. I knew that once I stepped outside the door, my whole world would never be the same again. I couldn't imagine my world without Jacob.

"Good girl."

Silently, I slipped away from him, closing the door behind a pair of dark, glowing crimson eyes and made my way mechanically downstairs. Jake was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, his arms folded impatiently and leaning against the front door.

"Ready?" he asked me, one eyebrow raised.

_No_. "Yes."

I let him take my cold, clammy hand in his warm one as he led me outside, to Billy's van. I climbed onto the passenger's seat, sinking into the chair while Jake climbed in on the driver's side and started the engine. The van made me uncomfortable – the last time I had seen it, they had used it to carry a man's body somewhere to bury it in secret. After Jacob had shot him, driving a metal bullet into his skull. Did Jacob remember that night?

I glanced at him now, a faint smile on his lips as he bobbed his head to some rock song, his demeanor relaxed. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, to say something corny that would make him tease me or laugh or _something_ but I couldn't because I was about to break his heart. I felt like a stranger, an imposter. How could I sit here, letting him smile and hum along to music and be _happy_ when I was going to kill it as fast as it had started?

When he pulled up outside the apartment, I climbed out of the van and followed him into the building and up a flight of stairs to his and Billy's apartment. It wasn't very big, and very masculine. Neither Billy nor Jacob cooked or cleaned, so the apartment was a mess. Clothes were strewn across the sofa, dirty plates and boxes of pizza left on the television set and coffee table.

I stopped in the middle of the living room/dining room/kitchen and turned to face him, just as he smiled wider at me. I swear I heard my heart crack a little; I would not be making him smile like that again. Ever.

I took a deep breath. "We need to talk, Jake."

"Yeah, I know, Bells. I've been thinking — a _lot_ — about us." He suddenly looked flustered, glancing around. He started shoving clothes off the sofa, making a place for me to sit. I sat awkwardly, my back rigidly straight. I had no idea how to end this with him — I hadn't ever considered the possibility before. I always just presumed that Jake and I would be together forever.

"And I'm sorry about what happened… in your room," Jake continued, almost pacing in front of me as he talked, his voice slightly nervous.

"No, Jake — I'm the one who should be sorry, I mean, I hit you and…" I started, my voice still panicky.

"It's okay," he interrupted. "I know why you hit me."

"Jake, I —"

"You weren't ready, I get that."

"STOP!" I leaped to my feet, my stomach rolling sickly. What did Edward say? Don't let him manipulate the conversation? Jake had his own agenda, he knew what he had to say, and that didn't include my side of the conversation. This wasn't about us, it was about _him_, and while before, I would have let him get it out of his system, this time was different. Because when I was finished with this conversation, there would be no _us_ to talk about.

I realized Jake was staring at me with a kind of shocked expression; I had never yelled at him before.

"Jake, listen to me," I said, without giving him a chance to recover. I took a deep breath, trying to forget how badly acting lessons had gone when Renée had put me through them years ago. I needed to put myself in the shoes of the master villain of a bestseller, the character without a heart.

_Edward_.

I let his voice filter through my mind, my words mimicking the tone of his sneer. I would be him, cold and heartless and I would break Jacob's heart.

"I don't want to see you anymore," I said calmly, seriously.

Jacob's face remained impassive as the words began to sink in. But as much as he would have me believe that my words had no affect on him, I could just… _tell_.

"What?" he asked eventually. His voice sounded strange.

I took a deep breath. "It's over, Jake."

"No, I got that part," he said, his voice still strange. "What I meant was, '_What the fuck are you thinking?!_'"

My hands balled into fists as I tried to fight the tears that sprung in my eyes. My whole body, my mind fought with my mouth, trying to stop me from making what felt like the worst mistake of my life. But what _could_ I do? I couldn't kill him. I _wouldn't_ be that person.

My mind scrambled for an excuse — _anything_ believable - that would push him away from me, make him believe that I didn't love him anymore.

"Things aren't working for us Jake," I pleaded. My mind reeled at the blasphemy that flew from my mouth but my desperation to save his life hid my lies. My voice did not tremble, I was beyond the tell—tale signs of my untruths. "We both want different things."

"What 'other things', Bella?!" Jacob demanded, his control starting to slip and his anger beginning to come through. "Because the last time I checked, we wanted each other!" He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his jaw tight.

"Not anymore," I said. I stared at him unblinkingly as I said this but I had never wanted to tell him the truth more. Of course I wanted him, of course I loved him. How could I not? But if I told him the truth, I knew that one way or another, Jacob would die. I would truly never see him again then.

"Fuck, Bella! Is this because I wouldn't tell you I loved you?" He turned to me, his face agonized. "Bella, I love you. I love you so much that I can't live without you!" His tirade became angry. "I wouldn't tell you because it didn't feel like I did, because I couldn't tell you what happened but —"

My heart began to splinter in my chest. He had no idea how hard this was for me, and then he made worse by telling me that he loved me. Of all the times I hoped he would say it, he never once said it to my face until now. The moment I least wanted to hear it. The moment I least _needed_ to hear it.

"I'm sorry, Jake," I said softly. I felt sick to my heart for going against my instincts so thoroughly. Tears fell from my eyes as my own heart broke with his but I couldn't stop them. I loved him, I couldn't believe I was doing this.

"No, Bella," he moaned, his face in his hands. Stress lined every surface of his body, his fingers curling into fists and releasing several times before he gave up entirely, shoving them into his jacket pockets as he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, pleading. "Bella, you can't. I love you, baby."

I shook my head, brushing my tears away impatiently. "I'm sorry, Jake. I can't do this anymore."

It was like watching him fall apart in front of me. His expression was agonized, his face rigid as turmoil raged in his eyes. I thought he would cry, and if he had, I would have collapsed there in front of him in a blubbering heap. But Jake would never let anyone think he was weak. His face became a mask, a rigidly calm, stone face that I did not recognize anymore. He was not my Jacob anymore — he was Jacob, the vampire killer now as I stared at him.

He fist snapped up and before I could comprehend what he was about to do, I felt the blinding agony rip through my face as his fist collided with my cheek. The force of the blow knocked me back onto his sofa, and I fell, completely stunned with blood pouring from my mouth.

Slowly, horror dawned in his eyes as he realized what he had done.

I coughed, spluttering as blood began to coat my lips, and a tooth fell from my mouth and into my cupped hands. I felt dizzy, my cheek throbbing excruciatingly with my rapid heartbeat.

"Bella," Jacob started in a small, shocked voice. He leaned forward, to catch my hand but I automatically flinched away from him. I was truly terrified of him now, more afraid of him than I had been of somebody before. More afraid of him than I was of a vampire.

_Edward_. Edward had told me he would kill me but he had never harmed a single hair on my head. He had the power to snap my spine in half and yet this morning he had not touched me with more force than was necessary.

I stared in horror at Jake. I was more afraid of _him_ than I was of Edward.

"I have to go," I choked out, my hand over my mouth to stop the blood from pouring out onto my top.

"I'll drive you back," Jake started.

"NO!" I refused, my voice trembling slightly in fear. I couldn't bear to be near him now. I looked at him and I saw Jacob, the Jacob I loved, the Jacob I wanted to be with forever… but I also saw the Jacob who hit me. He was not the same person I had thought I knew.

I pulled open the door of his apartment and fled out the door, ignoring his protestations behind me. I sprinted away from his building, and all the way down the street until I had to stop before I tripped and lost even more teeth. I pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it gently to the inside of my cheek, wincing at the tenderness on _both_ sides. My jaw throbbed painfully and my whole face ached from the blow. Stifling my crying, I started to hurry down the street.

When I got the front door open of my house, I slammed it shut and sprinted upstairs to the bathroom. I tried to ignore the pain as I methodically rinsed my mouth out, watching the blood seeping down the drain. Afterwards, I crawled into my room and curled up on the floor beside the bed, the tears already beginning to fall from eyes.

My whole world was falling apart, ever since we had moved to Port Angeles and become tangled with these creatures. I loved Jake, and I really had destroyed him. He had become someone I didn't even recognize anymore.

_But he wouldn't die_. I had saved him, at least. I was determined to put together the pieces of this puzzle, to discover the reason why two people could hate each other so. Maybe then I could save them both, because like it or not, I was still alive because of Edward.

Even if he had been the danger in the first place.

* * *

**E.  
**

I waited, under cover of darkness, for the light to go off. Hers was the only light on in the house, the only person still awake. I could hear the soft, reassuring thump of her heart beat, the sound of her footsteps, the quiet whisper of material as she changed her clothes and every soft sigh she uttered from her mouth.

When her heart rate began to slow, I leaped from the ground to her windowsill, my fingers closing around the ledge easily, and I slipped into her room unheard, always drawn to the silver eyes on her wall.

I settled onto her rocking chair, my fingers running through my hair softly as my gaze came to rest on her, on the small hand curled around her pillow, her dark hair splayed around her head… her face.

A ball of fury erupted in my stomach, a hatred like none I had ever felt before, blisteringly potent as it shot through my veins faster than adrenaline. A dark, purplish color lined her jaw and cheek, a deep and swollen bruise that marred her perfect face.

I swore under my breath.

Burning in hell was not enough for Jacob Black. He would not touch her again. If he so much as laid a finger on her, I would snap every single one of them from his hands as if they were twigs and I would laugh at his pain because _he had hurt Bella._

Bella.

_My_ Bella.

She moaned softly in her sleep, her jaw clenching uncomfortably. Slowly, I slipped from her rocking chair and crawled on my knees to her side. Gently, I laid my hand on her swollen face, suppressing the urge to recoil as a shock ran through me. My fingers were cold, they would help the swelling go down and she would sleep more comfortably that way.

I tried to ignore how warm she was, how my pale fingers were not so far removed from the color of her own fragile, beautiful skin. The smell of her blood wafted toward my nose but I knew I would not be tempted. I could never hurt her, I knew that now.

She sighed softly in her sleep, the furrow between her brows disappearing as I caressed the side of her face gently, my entire concentration focused on her.

I did not hum new, insanely dirty song lyrics to pop songs tonight. It was a new melody, a melody I envisioned as my fingers stroked her face and I imagined the keys of my piano. She slumbered on as I hummed this new, strange yet attractive melody about a beautiful, alluring angel who fell from heaven.

_Bella's Lullaby_.


	8. Come Crawling

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
**

* * *

**8. COME CRAWLING  
**

* * *

**B.  
**

My whole face ached. I brushed my hair carefully away from my face with my fingers and lifted my toothbrush as if it were a nuclear weapon. I winced just thinking about using it. I thought back to last night, when Charlie had gotten home. He had slammed the door and his footsteps had halted in surprise because there was nothing cooking in the kitchen. He wasn't upset, he didn't mind if I didn't have time to make his dinner.

"Bella?" he'd called, his voice nervous. Slowly, I walked out of my bedroom, clutching the bag of peas to my face and crossing my fingers and hoping he'd believe my lame story about falling down the stairs. I had done it before, it was a likely story. It looked worse than I intended — in addition to my bruised face, my eyes were puffy and swollen from crying and blood still coated my cracked lips.

Charlie's eyes widened in horror as I appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Jesus, Bella, what happened to you?" he growled, hurrying up the stairs to me as if he were afraid I couldn't make the distance myself. His eyes narrowed as he gently pressed his calloused fingers to my jaw, examining the bruise. I winced in pain, jerking my head away from his grasp.

"I fell down the stairs," I croaked in explanation, offering a weak, self—mocking smile. Charlie did not return my smile.

"You were punched," he stated angrily. "I'm a cop, Bells. I know these things."

"It's nothing," I mumbled. I couldn't have him charging off after Jacob, especially since I knew that Charlie would probably kill him and I'd have just wasted my time keeping him alive.

"Bella — if that Newton kid —"

"No! Dad, just drop it, okay?"

He sighed, frowning at my bruised face, but he had mercifully let the subject drop.

Slowly, I inched the toothbrush into my mouth. The toothpaste stung my gums, but the cold water was like heaven. When I was done in the bathroom, I threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie before I hunted down my phone. I had 53 unread messages in my inbox — all from Jake, and all saying the same thing. _I'm sorry_. I deleted them all without replying. If I replied, I would cave and Jake would die. It had become my little mantra — _Jake will die, Jake will die, Jake will die —_ every time I wanted to call him, to hear his voice. I was like one of those pathetic wives who let their husbands beat them up without doing a single thing about it because they loved them.

I sighed as my phone vibrated and another message appeared on screen.

I headed downstairs to the kitchen and threw some toast into the toaster, drumming my fingers impatiently on the countertop as I waited for the toaster to pop.

Unwillingly, my gaze flickered towards the now unused dining room table, and Jake's face stared darkly back at me from behind the table, a cold, black gun in his hands. Though the man before him thrashed and cried out from behind his gag, somehow knowing he was going to die, there was no pity in Jake's eyes.

"It's not black and white anymore, Bells," he told me, his gaze hard as slowly the gun rose in his hands, the nozzle directed toward my heart.

I jumped, snapping out of my disturbing daydream as the toast suddenly sprang up in the toaster, and I swore under my breath, trying to get my heart rate under control.

I grabbed the toast, buttering it quickly before disappearing up to my room to get ready for work. I tried to remember what my mother had told me about how to hide bruises — she gave me an assortment of make up accessories every Christmas and for my birthday that I never used, but I was never more thankful now for the bottle of foundation I found buried in the bottom of my closet. I did my best with it, rubbing it in delicately over the purplish bruise. The resulting mess was a little green, but it was easier on the eyes than the purplish monstrosity that lurked beneath. And now it hurt like hell because of all the rubbing.

Sighing, I pulled my hair out of the haphazard ponytail I'd thrown it into this morning and pulled my hair over my face, trying to conceal the bruise even further. My jaw still looked slightly unbalanced, swollen, but at least I looked human.

When my phone jolted to life, vibrating so hard it almost fell off my dresser, I completely ignored it. Jake had obviously gotten sick of unanswered text messages and thought I would answer instead.

_Jake will die, Jake will die, Jake will die…_

I took a deep breath and continued brushing out my hair. When the phone finally cut off, I wondered if he'd show up at the door instead. Would he start throwing pebbles at my window? I rolled my eyes. It would be more like Jake to break in.

I jumped, shrieking as something hard thumped against the wall and the window was suddenly flung open. It wasn't Jake that stepped inside, however.

"Edward?" I froze, the brush slipping from my hands.

He climbed smoothly into my bedroom, glancing at my canvas with an odd brooding expression. There was a furrow between his brows and when his dark, almost black eyes flickered to mine, they were hard.

"You didn't answer your cell phone," he said, waving his own, dark and obviously expensive one at me as he moved away from the window. I thought he was going to tower over me again and threaten me or something, but instead he just slipped gracefully onto my rocking chair, his gaze wandering appraisingly over my face.

"I thought you were Jake," I said quietly. I glanced down at my cell, reading the unknown number on my missed call list. Confused and suspicious, I glanced up at his disconcertingly dark eyes. "How did you get my number?"

He grinned then, his lips slipping into a lazy, beautiful smile and my heart rate picked up, my hand unconsciously tightening around my cell. He wasn't sneering at me this time, his teeth weren't bared in a sadistic smile that made me fear him. He was just… grinning. And it was dazzling.

"Friend of a friend," he explained dismissively, waving his hand. "I have connections."

"Oh." I shifted uncomfortably. I probably should have been furious with him, mentally beating him to death for threatening Jake, for trying to kill me… but it was impossible when he smiled like that. It was extremely unfair. It made me feel incredibly superficial that I noticed how beautiful he was… and I _liked_ it.

With Jake, I'd never really considered how he looked. He was just Jacob. It wasn't that I liked his smile, I just liked it _when_ he smiled. He was taller than me, but I was just small, so that was unavoidable. Even his hair! Renée and I used to laugh at this guy who used to ride on the bus with us every week when Renée took me on a shopping trip, because his hair was nearly at his waist. He looked awfully girly, but I was insanely jealous because my hair barely made it to my shoulders; Renée was always trying out new haircuts on me, and he had the silkiest, most beautiful hair I had ever seen.

Clearing my throat, I forced out a question. "What are you doing here?"

Edward's lips pursed, the furrow on his brow reappearing as he tossed his own cell phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket. He was wearing another black shirt underneath the jacket, and dark jeans. I had never seen him in anything else, but there were subtle changes to the designs. I just presumed he had a wardrobe full of several variations of the same outfit.

"I thought I'd drive you to work," he said, running his fingers through his hair almost absentmindedly. It really was the most disarming shade of bronze. Certainly not something you could find in a bottle of hair dye. He definitely needed to say something to me and I got the sneaking suspicion he was here to make sure I had ended things with Jake. I almost smirked angrily at him. He wouldn't be killing Jacob today. Or ever, if I had my way.

Tense, I shook my head. "I don't think so."

He frowned; he hadn't expected me to argue with him.

"Look, Edward," I continued. "I've broken up with Jake." I winced. "I even have the scars to prove it." My cheek was still throbbing painfully, emphasizing my point.

He growled suddenly, his eyes igniting in anger. I heard the distinct sound of splintering wood and my gaze flickered to where is hands were gripping the arms of the rocking chair tightly.

I swallowed, my heart rate accelerating.

"I know what he's done to you," he spat furiously. "He has some fucking nerve calling me heartless when he hits his own _girlfriend_."

"It's not like that," I said quietly, hating how harsh Jacob's actions sounded coming from Edward.

Edward growled at me. "Jesus, Bella! Will you fucking shut up with all the self—sacrificing shit for one second? He _hit_ you."

"_You_ tried to kill me," I pointed out, gritting my teeth. The fact that he was right didn't do anything to calm my anger at all — I just forgot to be normal, careful Bella when he was arguing with me like this. I should have acquiesced to his wishes considering he was strong enough to snap my spine in half, and I had no doubt that he would do it if he was angry enough, but it was like my reactions were all wrong. I _wanted_ to fight with him. It was a stronger impulse than wanting to force Jacob to talk to me — in some strange, twisted way I was more afraid of Jacob's mood swings than Edward's.

"'_Tried_' being the operative word," Edward answered pointedly.

"So why didn't you?" I asked abruptly. The question just slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Edward continued to stare at me, his pale brow furrowed and his dark eyes fixated on my face and his lips pursed in thought. My question disturbed him, as if he had been musing over the same question for days. Why me? Why was I so much different to his other victims?

"I don't know," he said quietly, tiredly. His muted, velvet voice was strained. "Killing — Eric? — was easy. His thoughts were insufferable, predictable —"

"His thoughts?" I interrupted uneasily.

Edward smirked at me. "I always wondered after that moment would you have been so miserable over Eric's death had you heard what was going on in his head."

"You — You know what he was thinking?" I asked, my voice incredulous. I swallowed suddenly. Did he know what I was thinking? My cheeks started to color in embarrassment — well, one cheek, since the other was pasted in foundation — but his smirk fell suddenly as he stared at me thoughtfully.

"I know what everyone's thinking," he told me. "Except you."

Even as relief flooded my system, my frown remained in place. If Edward could hear everyone's thoughts, why couldn't he hear mine? Was there something wrong with my brain? I had always thought that having Renée drop me on my head so many times as a baby would have repercussions.

Edward caught the look on my face and his brow quirked doubtfully. "It worries you that I can't read your thoughts?"

I didn't answer him, instead I asked another question. "Can all of your kind read minds?"

"No." He ran a hand through his hair again. "We all… when we were changed, theory goes that we took our strongest personality traits with us and they were _heightened_. For instance, I would have been able to read peoples' faces easily…"

I nodded in understanding. I wouldn't tell him, but I was fascinated by what he was. I didn't understand how Jacob could conceive that something so beautiful and haunting could be evil. They killed to survive — a necessity — not because they were deranged psychopathic killers - and as much as I couldn't condone the murder of innocent people, I still understood it was how they survived.

"My roommates, Emmett and Rosalie, don't have _gifts_ per se, but Emmett is stronger than any vampire I have met and Rosalie is obsessed with her beauty," Edward continued to explain, his smirk returning.

_Rosalie_. I remembered her — she had arrived at Newtons' one afternoon with two others, and I could understand why she was obsessed with her beauty. She was tall, supermodel style gorgeous with a pale, symmetrical face and a smile that would bring men to their knees. And she was Edward's _roommate_?

"But you killed Eric because of what he was _thinking_?" I asked, backtracking a little. I still had difficulties going back into that storeroom because of what I found in there. Eric had been a nice kid even if he was being manipulated by Tyler and Mike.

Edward was sneering again, but I sensed that it wasn't directed at me. "Bella, he was thinking about bending you over a box a shoving his dick up your skirt."

I blushed immediately, one half of my face glowing a tomato red. I half—heard Edward groan, which confused me until I remembered his diet. And then I flushed harder because I couldn't stop. But I was still furious that _that_ had been the pathetic excuse Edward used to justify Eric's murder. Eric was a seventeen year old boy — what seventeen year old heterosexual boy _didn't_ have fantasies about the opposite sex?

"You killed him because he _thought_ that?" I exclaimed furiously. "Damn it, Edward!" I flung myself off my stool before I did some damage to my dressing table. I could feel Edward's eyes on me, but I didn't look at him as I paced. "He never once tried to do something like that! Hell, I have stupid fantasies about walking in on Sean Faris in the shower but I don't think I deserve to die for it!" _And I can't believe I just told you that…_ If I was red before, I was beetroot now.

"Don't try to make me feel guilty about it," Edward said, his voice tinged with irritation. "And Sean Faris, Bella? Really?"

"Shut up," I growled. I gritted my teeth again, but this made my jaw throb painfully and I winced, forcing myself to resist the urge to rub it. That would only make it worse.

I swung around in the middle of my pacing but he was suddenly standing directly in front of me — _too close_.

Slowly, he lifted his pale, cold hand and slid it along my jaw, his brow furrowed in concentration as he applied the smallest amount of pressure to my swollen cheek.

I should have swatted him away, put some distance between us, but I couldn't make myself do it. My eyes fluttered closed, the coldness of his hand more effective than any bag of peas. Gently, his thumb rubbed soothing circles under my eye and little shocks danced from the tips of his fingers, like electricity.

It gave me a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and my heart rate began to increase as I tensed all over again. But then his other hand drifted to my neck, brushing my hair gently out of the way as he massaged my throat with his cold fingers, loosening the tension in my body.

This was so wrong. Everything about him warned me away — the coldness of his skin, the color of his eyes, his supernatural strength — but I couldn't give a damn because it felt like a million bolts of electricity were arcing through my body.

Slowly, he eased away from me, and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from moaning in disappointment. Which was followed almost immediately by painful guilt. Why had I let him touch me like that? It felt like I was being unfaithful to Jake, even if we couldn't be together anymore.

My gaze flickered open, my eyes automatically latching onto his and I felt confused because I couldn't read what he was thinking. With Jacob it was easy — pissed and happy. With Edward… I couldn't figure him out.

"I'll drive you to work," he said quietly.

I wasn't capable of arguing with him. I just followed him downstairs and out the front door. But as soon as my feet hit the pavement, I came to abrupt stop. Because sitting in my drive was a flashy, obviously expensive, bright red BMW.

"Where the hell did you get _that_?" I was stared, wide—eyed at the most ridiculously flashy car in the world.

"I stole it," Edward smirked. I opened my mouth, but then shut it again because talking to him about moral behavior was about as effective as trying to make Charlie a vegetarian. Edward opened the door of the passenger's seat and waited as I climbed inside delicately, briefly wondering if the cops would check for fingerprints on the upholstery. If they found mine, I doubted Charlie would be too happy.

Edward climbed into the seat opposite, still smirking at me, and I allowed myself to relax on the short drive it took to get to Newtons'. Edward had switched the radio onto some soothing classical channel and I closed my eyes when Clair de Lune came on, enjoying the music. Edward didn't talk on the way over, but when he parked the car outside the shop, he stopped me from getting out with a gentle hand on my shoulder.

It didn't matter how gentle he was, his touch still made me shiver. I just didn't think it was a _bad_ shiver. I turned to him, my brow arched questioningly.

"Just… Be safe, okay?" he told me, his voice soft and velvety.

I nodded awkwardly before climbing out of the vehicle, utterly confused.

* * *

**E.**

I watched her push open the door to Newtons', her brow puckered in confusion. I sighed, putting the car in gear as my mind ran over the conversation with her in her room. I had lied to her, pretending I wasn't guilty. _She_ made me feel guilty about killing Eric, even if I had killed for less before. And it killed me that I couldn't hear what she was really thinking.

Her reflexes were so much different to everyone else — she stood up to me, she didn't latch onto me like a filthy whore but… touching her felt like nothing I'd ever felt before. I hated seeing her in discomfort and I had offered my hand only to make her cheek feel better because I knew my skin would help with the swelling of her bruise. But then I touched her and I heard her heartbeat quicken in her chest and I realized I liked it. Touching her. She didn't repulse me like other humans did.

I drove through four red lights because I was bored and parked the car haphazardly in the driveway, wincing as Rosalie's mental thoughts assaulted my mind.

_EDWARD! YOU FUCKING BASTARD! WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU GET OFF TAKING _MY _BABY OFF TO GOD KNOWS WHERE —_

"Give it a rest, Rosalie," I growled as I strode into the hall, slamming the front door behind me.

"Give it a fucking rest?!" Rosalie screamed, flinging a hairbrush in my direction that shattered in half as soon as it bounced off my shoulder.

"I'm not even going to pretend that hurt," I told her, my eyes flashing darkly. "Now back the fuck off." I threw the keys to her, deciding I needed to get a car of my own.

Rosalie shrieked in frustration but I just scowled at her as I passed and slammed my bedroom door in her face.

"Edward?"

I froze. Christ, it felt like 'Intervention Edward Day' today. I swung around slowly, leaning back against my closed door with my arms folded across my chest as my eyes came to rest on the vampire perched on my bed. Her strawberry blonde curls were caught in some elegant decoration on top of her head, and she was wearing another one of her slim fitting red dresses that barely reached mid thigh. She was smiling awkwardly, twirling a stray curl around her finger. I didn't have to read her thoughts to know what she wanted — she wanted to play.

"Not one for holding grudges, are you?" I asked her calmly, my eyebrows raised.

Tanya rolled her eyes. "I've known you long enough to get over your _tantrums_, Edward. I know how you like to play." As she said this she moved slightly, hitching her skirt up higher to display more of her long, smooth legs.

My eyes traced the length of her sexy body, but I was bored. I was tempted to call Rosalie in to bring more excitement to the game but Emmett was around somewhere and he was annoyingly possessive. How he didn't get tired of her, I had no idea.

"I don't think so," I told her.

Tanya scowled. "Why not?"

I ran a hand through my hair in irritation, blocking out her frustrated thoughts. I should have ended things between us sooner, I knew. Tanya had grown too attached and was imagining a more permanent situation than I had ever planned to be coerced into. Eternity was too long to be stuck with one woman, even one as sexy as Tanya. I couldn't even explain half of it to myself, how I resented her showing up in _my_ house, in _my_ room, on _my_ bed. _My _sanctuary.

"I don't want you," I told her, my voice even and steady. It sounded cruel, but in all honesty, she was killing me. When had I ever invited her over?

"You're a man, Edward," Tanya smirked. "Of course you want me." She was hitching her skirt higher still, her other hand gliding along the v—neck of her dress, between the valley of her breasts, in what I presumed was meant to be a seductive pose.

When I didn't move away from the door, Tanya slipped off the bed and moved gracefully towards me. I let her kiss me. I let her slide her tongue along my lips, shove her hands through my hair as she urged me into a response but I didn't kiss her back the way she wanted to. She felt her way down my torso, her hands finally pressing against the front of my jeans.

I smirked at her. "I'm not going to fuck you, Tanya."

Tanya growled in frustration, because I _obviously_ wasn't co—operating with her plans. "What the fuck is it going to take?" She was ripping at the zip on her dress, but I stopped her, pulling her hands away from ripping her clothes off.

"Stop it, Tanya," I told her. She stared up at me, until I forgot to block her thoughts and I realized that _too far_ was an understatement.

_I love you_, she thought, and I knew if she could cry, she would be crying now. She could only ever be with me if I wanted to have sex with her, that's how she saw us. She'd take anything she could get from me because she thought she loved me. I had a feeling that Bella was starting to get to me because I suddenly felt guilty over leading her on like this.

"Tanya," I said unsteadily, brushing her hair back from her face. "You don't deserve to take only what you can get. Eternity is too long not to get what you want."

"I want _you_," she moaned sadly.

I shook my head, dropping my hands. "I can't, Tanya."

"Why _not_?" she demanded again, but this time she sounded desperate. How many men had ever said no to her? I doubted any had. It was hard to deny someone so beautiful what they wanted. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't tell her I wanted her when I was so sure that I didn't, and I'd only end up resenting her because of it.

"Because the woman I loved died years ago. And I died with her," I said quietly. I knew I had said too much as soon as her eyes widened in sympathy and curiosity, and I knew it was time for Tanya to go.

"Get out, Tanya. Please. Just… leave?" I opened the door, pushing her out gently before she could open her mouth to argue and I slammed the door so that she would know that the conversation was over. And was never going to be brought up again.

I sat down at my piano and drowned out all of their thoughts with several spookier and louder versions of every song I could think of as I attempted to block out my _own_ thoughts too. I didn't need to think about _her_, not now, not ever.

When night fell, I threw on my leather jacket and left the house without acknowledging anyone else around me. There was only one place I could go now. I weaved through the familiar streets to her house, climbing onto her windowsill and pushing the window up as I stepped inside.

She was curled up on her bed, her breathing soft and peaceful tonight. As I closed the window gently, she stirred, mumbling something about fishing rods under her breath and I couldn't help it — I smiled a little.

I moved closer to her bed, examining her face. Her face was still swollen but it was considerably better than it had been this morning. Gently, I laid my hand on her face and sat down on the floor beside her bed, just touching her cheek to ease the swelling.

But also because I liked it.


	9. Invisible Wounds

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
**

* * *

**9. INVISIBLE WOUNDS  
**

* * *

**B.  
**

It had been a week since Edward appeared in my bedroom the second time, but it was not the last time I had seen him. I got the feeling he was doing what Jake had been doing when he thought that Edward was coming after me.

Stalking me.

Somehow, it didn't irritate me like Jake's stalking had. It confused me. Jake had wanted to protect me from Edward — what did Edward want to protect me from? Jake wasn't _that_ dangerous, was he?

I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought. When he hit me, it was like I had started doubting him, even after two years together. I knew then that Jake wasn't _Jake_ anymore. He blamed Edward, but I couldn't. If he had only listened to me, stopped what he was doing, things wouldn't have gotten this far.

Mike noticed my preoccupation and hurried over, a wide grin on his face.

"Whatcha reading?" he asked. I doubted he was even interested, but I lifted my relatively new copy of _Wuthering Heights, _drumming my fingers impatiently on the countertop.

"Huh." Mike's eyes practically glazed over with boredom. "I think we're doing that for English." His face suddenly brightened. "Maybe you give me some pointers?"

I mentally groaned. This felt like the hundredth time he had tried to maneuver me into a date since he found out that Jake and I split up, and it was really starting to wear on my patience. I hadn't realized it was so difficult to tell a seventeen year old to back off — I mean, you could only say it so many ways before you had to be rude.

"I don't know, Mike," I responded.

"Sure she does." I glanced up suddenly, my heart skittering nervously as the platinum blonde flicked her hair back over her shoulder, flashing Mike a slow, sultry smile. "Bella's a little old for you, don't you think?"

Mike was practically gaping at her. His mouth opened several times but he couldn't formulate a proper reply.

Rosalie giggled, hoisting herself up on the countertop beside me delicately and pointing toward the shop door. "You have customers."

As Mike hurried to do her bidding, I heard Rosalie mutter "_good dog_" under her breath and I rolled my eyes. They were all the same — they liked to toy with people.

"Let me guess," I said sarcastically, putting down my book. "You're here because you like me so much?"

"It's better than stalking your boyfriend." Rosalie wrinkled her nose. "He doesn't smell too good."

"Ex—boyfriend," I corrected her. "And he bathes himself in Dead Man's Blood. Isn't that supposed to be poisonous to your kind or something?"

"Yes," she pouted, her face slipping into a sulk, and I heard someone chuckle outside the door, their voice loud and booming.

"Shut up, Emmett," Rosalie muttered.

_Emmett_. I remembered Edward telling me that he was the strongest vampire he had ever met. Why were they following Jake and I around? My brow furrowed as Rosalie repositioned herself on the countertop, waving her fingers at the two campers who had just trudged inside and were being greeted by a rather dazed Mike. Who was the dangerous party? Jake had warned me that vampires were deadly — that I should fear them. But why were they protecting me, then? Jake was capable of hitting me, but they were capable of doing so much worse.

Who could I trust?

Finally, Rosalie glanced at me, her lips quirking in smirk. "I hope I didn't blow your chances of a whirlwind romance with Romeo over there," she said, unapologetic.

"If by 'whirlwind romance' you mean 'getting mauled at prom', then I think I'll get over it," I responded sarcastically. Her gaze flicked over me appraisingly but she didn't reply. The campers arrived at the till to pay for their purchases, then. They were staring at Rosalie, not even trying to be sneaky about it — not that she seemed to mind. Again, I heard a booming chuckle and Rosalie's smirk widened. The campers left and Mike began to walk towards the till but a huge, bulking man strode inside, a lazy grin on his face.

My jaw fell open. He was well over six feet and had to bend his head to enter the door, and besides his obvious, bulking strength he had an adorable mop of curly brown hair and boyish face… but his eyes were off. Green, but not quite green as if he was wearing contact lenses.

He winked at Rosalie, grabbing Mike's attention and I realized who it was — _Emmett_. His grin widened as he took in Mike's frightened expression and he started gesturing widely, flexing his muscles as he described what he was looking for. Mike gulped.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Rosalie, drawing her gaze away from Emmett and Mike. I kept an eye on both of them — I didn't trust any of them after the Eric fiasco. I was planning on keeping Mike alive before his mother started thinking _I_ was responsible for the deaths happening on her premises.

"Look, Bella." Rosalie hopped down off the countertop gracefully. Instead, she leaned forward toward me, her chin propped up on her hand as she fiddled with a hook in the box beside the countertop as Tyler was so fond of doing when he was talking to me. "I can't tell you what's going on. Hell — _I_ don't even know half of what's going on, but Edward asked me to do him a favor and as much as he annoys the fuck out of me, I'm going to help him out. If that means watching you and stalking your disease ridden boyfriend, then I'll do it."

"What the hell is going on?!" I exclaimed, falling out of my stool in frustration. I was getting sick of being stuck in the middle of this stupid fight when I had no idea what was really going on.

Rosalie shook her head. "I'm sorry, Bella. I really don't know anything."

I sighed, grimacing apologetically at her. Taking it out on Rosalie wouldn't help, even if my frustration levels were shot through the roof. Sensing my foul mood, Rosalie reached out and touched my hair.

"You know, you have amazing natural tones in your hair. Have you tried curling it?"

I shook my head, and she launched into the benefits of using certain kinds of curling tongs, and to be honest, I actually listened. I had no interest in fashion or in my looks, but her advice was interesting. Edward had only been half—right when he had mentioned she was obsessed with her looks — she was obsessed with _looks_ full stop.

Emmett kept Mike occupied for a while until he disappeared with a quick glance at Rosalie. Rosalie stiffened momentarily, but she didn't explain what was going on. I sighed, because I hadn't expected them to tell me.

I actually started to like Rosalie. She was obsessed with herself but she wasn't entirely selfish. I learned that she and Emmett were together, so to speak. She told me they had been married several times over the years, but the pretense was annoying. She preferred this decade because living together unmarried wasn't looked down on anymore and she didn't have to arrange yet another wedding to attend. Once, she had been obsessed with planning her weddings and getting the right dress and making sure everything went smoothly but she lamented that her "special day" was only meant to be for one day only. It wasn't very special when you had to do it again and again every few years.

She left Newtons' with me at five, when my shift ended, but she didn't follow me home. Emmett pulled up in the flashy red BMW that Edward told me that he stole, and Rosalie glared at him as he shifted onto the passenger's seat, carefully avoiding the gear stick.

I heard her muttering, "What the hell did I tell you about driving _my_ baby —?" as she drove off, smiling slightly at me as she passed. I sighed, feeling slightly relieved that Edward hadn't actually stolen the car.

The walk home was short. The truck was parked out front because Charlie had the day off today. He promised he was handling dinner this evening, that I didn't have to worry about a thing — which instinctively _did_ make me worry. Charlie had trouble getting a jug of milk into the microwave for a specific period of time. I fished out my keys and opened the front door with a quiet click.

I sniffed gently. Nothing was burning.

"Dad?" I called tiredly. The door clicked shut behind me and I shrugged out of my coat, throwing it over the banister of the stairs.

"Hi, Bells," Charlie called from the kitchen. I pushed open the door, my eyes widening as I realized he had cheated. Another wave of relief washed over me as I noted the takeaway bags in the bin that he hadn't hidden well enough. The table was laden with various steaming plates of Chinese and Thai food and I grinned at Charlie's smug look as he gestured toward the table.

"Told you I could take care of dinner, Bells," he told me.

"Looks good, Char — Dad," I grinned. My brow furrowed in confusion as I glanced around. "But there's a lot here for just us."

"Oh. About that…" Charlie's face began to turn pink.

A cold fist twisted inside my stomach. "You invited Billy and Jake," I said flatly.

"Aw, kiddo, don't be mad at me? I know you and Jake are going through a rough patch, but the sooner you work things out —"

"Dad!" I interrupted. "It's not just a rough patch."

I knew he didn't believe me, but he just nodded and went to answer the door as the bell went. I had no time to prepare myself to face Jake before he was pushing the door open, his dark face even more forbidding than I had remembered. I hadn't seen him in weeks, I hadn't answered any of his calls — but seeing him in my kitchen made my entire body go cold.

Neither Charlie nor Billy followed him inside and I guessed they were giving us some "alone time".

"Hey, Bells," he said quietly, his voice low. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I say? I didn't know whether I missed him or if I was mad at him or… If I was afraid of him. He stood there, his black eyes staring at me for a long time without saying anything. He looked different. Darker. Was he angry with me for leaving him?

"What… what are you doing here?" I asked finally.

Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm here to see you, Bella. I figured I'd given you enough space to think things over. To realize that we should be together."

I started to shake my head, my jaw stiff in determination. "No, Jake, we shouldn't…"

"And why not?" he demanded. "All I've done is _love_ you, Bella — why are you doing this to us?"

My fists clenched at my sides, my heart cold. "I don't want to be with you."

Jake sneered at me. "Silly, Bella. You _need_ me."

"No, Jake," I responded shakily. "I don't."

"You _do_ — Bella, I know when you're lying! You're voice has gone all shaky and your breathing's picking up and —"

"Are you kids hungry?" Charlie asked, arriving in the kitchen. Jake grinned at him, nodding, and I wanted to ask him to leave but I knew that Charlie wouldn't let me be so rude. I followed him over to the table and slipped onto one of the chairs. Jake deliberately took the one next to me, our thighs almost touching under the table because it was so small. Billy came in, glancing over his shoulder toward the living room as the television set erupted in furious cheers. They must have the game on or something.

It was fitting that we were currently eating our dinner off the very table Jake had shot a man on. The night I should have realized that Jacob was becoming someone I didn't recognize. They never thought about that night — they had probably forgotten by now. I remembered that a few nights ago I had seen his face on the news. His family were worried, they had filed a Missing Person's Report. He had two little children, two boys. And his wife was pregnant.

It was because of Jake that that child would never know it's father. I knew that was only partly right — he had been bitten already, would have probably died anyway — but _Jake_ had delivered the final blow.

"Isn't that right, Bells?"

"What, sorry?" I asked, distracted.

"I was just telling Billy that your mother was offered a position as an art teacher at one of the schools in Jacksonville," Charlie explained.

"Oh, yeah." I smiled, remembering the conversation I had with my mother last night. Since Phil was settled with his baseball team, she had decided to go job hunting and she was delighted when a school close by offered her the job of art teacher. She, like me, liked almost anything to do with art. When we had lived together in Phoenix, we had decorated the house together with our abstract imaginations, though most of the paint ended up on our t—shirts and in our hair.

"Jake was just offered a job in Seattle," Billy announced, beaming proudly at his son. Jake ducked his head, grinning. "It's a new car manufacturing company that's getting started up at the moment, and Jake was hand selected for his mechanical skills."

"Wow!" Charlie exclaimed. "That's brilliant, Jake."

"Yeah, that's brilliant," I agreed, smiling at him. He glanced at me, his eyes still dark and my smile began to fade as I realized that our conversation still wasn't over.

"I would have to move there and I've already secured a flat," he told Charlie. "I was going to ask your permission first… because I wanted to bring Bella with me."

My mouth fell open. Stunned, I couldn't force a word past my lips and my whole body felt colder than before. He was serious. He was asking my father if I could move with him to Seattle. To be together. Even after a week of separation, he still hadn't grasped the fact that we were _over_.

"Oh," Charlie said thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose Bella's a big girl —"

"No."

Everyone turned to look at me. Jake's expression was carefully confused, but there was an edge to his eyes that scared me. Billy and Charlie were just confused.

"Bella, don't be silly," Charlie told me. "You can't hold a grudge with Jake forever over your little fight — you know you guys are meant to be together."

"We're not," I said through gritted teeth. This wasn't about Edward's little revenge. It wasn't because I wanted Jacob to live. It was because I had never been so afraid of him in my life. I wanted to go with _my_ Jake — with all my heart, I would have fought for the chance to be with _him_ — but I couldn't be with this Jacob. The Jacob that killed innocent men and hit his girlfriend.

"You know we are," Jake said softly, reaching over to take my cold, clammy hand in his. Only I heard the threat in his voice.

"No," I replied shakily, mentally cursing myself for not putting more force into my words. I wanted to pull my hand away but he was holding on too tightly.

"See, Bella?" Charlie said. "He loves you."

_He loves you_. I just snapped then. I couldn't take it — hearing Charlie _defend_ him and stare at me as if I had grown two heads because I didn't want to be with Jake anymore. I was better off without Jake!

"He _loves_ me?" I yelled furiously. I was prepared to thump Jake if he didn't let go of my hand — obviously physical violence didn't bother him — but, startled by my outburst, his hand released mine and I pushed myself away from the stupid, fucking _tarnished_ table, and glared at Charlie. "He fucking _loves_ me?" I repeated furiously. "If he loves me so fucking _much_ then why did he punch my face?!"

Charlie stared at me, speechless, as his face turned a strange shade of puce. I was breathing heavily, clutching the counter for support, while Billy's head swiveled toward his son. I couldn't see his face, but immediately Jake's eyes flickered toward me, murder in his gaze. He was more than pissed that I had told Charlie what he had done. He was livid.

"Bella, what —" Jake started but Charlie slammed his fist on the table.

"Get the hell out of my house!" he yelled.

Billy and Jake turned to stare at him, but Charlie was deadly serious. He flung himself out of his chair, grabbing me with one hand and pulling open the dresser drawer with the other. When he pulled out the gun, I gasped.

"GET OUT!" he bellowed at Jacob.

Jacob rose unsteadily to his feet, his gaze flickering between me and Charlie but he finally realized that Charlie was deadly serious. As soon as Billy and Jacob left the room, Charlie released me and strode after them. I cringed when I heard him yelling again.

"If you ever fucking _touch _her again, I _will_ shoot — do you hear me?" he growled.

Jacob muttered something and then I heard the front door slam. Thankfully, there was no accompanying gun shot. I stood by the dresser, still breathing heavily as I tried to calm down. When Charlie finally trudged back inside the kitchen, gun in hand, his murderous expression made me start crying.

"Aw, Bells," he said awkwardly as he wrapped his arms around me, the gun dangling against my back. I was soaking his sweater but I didn't care.

"Bells, I'm sorry, honey. I wish you could have told me, I never would have pushed you at him like that. I'm sorry, baby girl." He stroked my hair and I let myself cry it out. I guess I knew then that I had chosen a side. The Jacob I had once known was gone, he no longer made me feel safe. But Edward… Edward made people — _vampires_ — watch me, to keep me safe. Edward made me break up with Jake, but he knew that Jake had become unstable. Edward tried to soothe my face because _Jake_ had hurt me.

Why had it been so difficult to realize that it was _Edward_ who had started to make me feel safe?

* * *

**E.  
**

_Scarlet _was busier that night than it had been in a long time. The speakers and DJ systems had been upgraded, which had drawn a huge crowd to the dark, smoky club. I scanned the room as I strode inside between Rosalie and Emmett, rubbing my forehead in hadn't discussed the scene that we overheard earlier. They hadn't heard the undercurrents like I had, and a lot of the significance of that scene in Bella's house had been lost on them. The fact that Charlie and Bella now believed Jacob Black was out of their lives did not ease my suspicions. Jacob was up to something, and he knew that somehow _I_ was behind Bella's little "tantrum" as he put it in his thoughts. He blamed me for taking her away from him and he was murderous. His mother was gone, and now Bella had been taken from him. He was in an unstable, emotional condition and I knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped. Jacob Black wasn't one for _patience_.

I was surprised when Rosalie glanced at me, her mind flipping through the conversation, and I realized she was _worried_ about Bella. As was Emmett. They had talked about her, when I was hunting, I realized. They _liked_ her.

For a moment, it made me feel less crazy for wanting to protect this human so badly because they liked her too and they were worried about her. But only for a second, because then I realized that they weren't crawling through her bedroom window every night, were they?

We slipped into our usual booth and I ignored Emmett and Rosalie as they shifted closer to each other, whispering in each other's ears and putting on a show for people who were staring covertly at them. Their reactions were all the same, jealousy, lust… _why was it that all the beautiful people find each other_?

I wondered what I would do when Bella was no longer around as a fascinating distraction and I went back to my constant, monotonous life. I knew she would die sometime. Would I find someone else as good as her to watch over, to protect? I doubted it. Bella was definitely one of a kind. After an hour of sifting through the thoughts of almost everyone in the club, Senna, Sierra and Tanya arrived at our booth, on their break. Tanya didn't sit on my lap as usual. But she did sit next to me, close enough that our shoulders and our thighs were touching. She was wearing a sage green dress today, tighter than her usual style. Sierra and Senna grinned at me, moving in between Rosalie and Tanya as they launched into a conversation with Rose about their shopping trip in New York that weekend.

"You're quiet this evening," Tanya said quietly, almost insecure. That night in my room had hurt her more than I intended. I realized from her thoughts that she hadn't told someone she loved them before, and I had thrown her out almost immediately.

"I have a lot to think about," I said tiredly, running a hand through my hair absentmindedly.

Tanya wrinkled her nose. "Like your whore in LA?"

I sighed. "I made her up."

Tanya didn't know whether to be relieved or angry that I had lied to her. That also re—opened the question of whose name I had uttered in the storeroom that time, but I wasn't in the mood to answer any of her suspicions. Would I go back to her when Bella was gone? She was just another part of my endless, monotonous life. She didn't fascinate me.

"Edward." Tanya glanced at me awkwardly. "We can be friends, can't we?"

"Yeah."

I stood up, grabbing her arm as I went. Her thoughts immediately flew to her failed seduction but I just shook my head, leading her away from the booth.

"Edward, what —?"

"Can we — can I try your way of hunting again, please?" I asked, laying on my charm thick. I knew she was furious that I kept killing so many people on the premises and I figured it would take a lot to convince her to give me another go, but I must have laid it on too thick because she blinked, dazed, and then nodded vigorously. I honestly didn't want to kill anyone tonight. I wasn't in the mood for toying with my prey.

I slipped onto the dance floor, focusing on the swirl of thoughts that whirled around me, a new realm of voices that only I could hear.

_Oh, yeah, baby! Shake that ass…_

_Please, please come home with me…!_

_Really need to pee…_

_Is he staring at me? Oh, God! I hope he is…_

_… shouldn't be here. Don't want to, can't believe I trusted him…_

"Are you alright?" I latched onto the last thought I heard, finding her easily. Her face was stricken, close to tears but when she glanced at me, she swayed a little.

"Um. You wouldn't happen to know where the exit is, do you?" she asked, her face apologetic. I could tell she found me attractive, but she wouldn't act on it. I stared at her appraisingly. She wasn't very tall and she had soft wisps of curly red hair falling around her heart shaped face. She was wearing contacts — I could see they were irritating her pale grey eyes.

"Actually, I do," I said smoothly. Maybe it would be easier to stop if I was drinking _her_ blood. It wasn't particularly attractive, and unlike the other girls I brought into the storeroom, I didn't immediately hate her. She was younger than the others, an innocent. Maybe I would save her if I pretended she were Bella? I almost rolled my eyes. If she were Bella, I wouldn't ever be able to get as far as sinking my teeth in, in the first place. There were subtle undertones to her thoughts that alerted me to the fact that she was not as innocent as she let on. Certainly not good like Bella. This girl had been in trouble of her own making before. _Drugs_?

I hoped I wouldn't be able to taste them in her system — drugs were disgusting on my tongue. Like bleach. No, she hadn't taken drugs recently, I realized while reading her frantic thought processes. An old friend had brought her here tonight against her will, and she was afraid she would relapse.

I guided her toward the storeroom, telling her it was a back exit, and she believed me. Tanya was already inside, out of sight, though I could hear her curiosity over my choice of victim. It wasn't my usual type — plastered in make—up, reeking of perfume and obvious lust — but I always managed to kill my usual type, didn't I?

"Hey, what —?" the girl glanced at me, alarmed, but I just smiled at her, my practiced, lazy smile and her heartbeat started to increase in her chest, her alarm momentarily stalled. I took advantage of that hesitance to kiss her, my cold lips pressing against her warm, make—up free mouth. She accepted me almost immediately and I kissed her impatiently — I didn't _want_ to kiss her, but I was following Tanya's advice to a T.

_While you're kissing her, get a feel for her blood type, the frailty of her skin,_ Tanya instructed.

I pressed my lips to the girl's repeatedly, testing the fragility of her lips with gentle grazes of my teeth. Her skin was lighter than most, due to her pale complexion. It made me wonder how frail Bella's was, considering she was almost translucent, like a ghost.

_Why did I want to know how easy it would be to bite her?_ I didn't want to analyze that question — instead I focused on Tanya's thoughts and the girl's body. Her blood wasn't very appealing — A—Negative. Endurable, but gross.

_Move your lips over her neck, test the veins,_ Tanya continued.

I did as she asked, finding at least four veins in the girl's neck under the pretense of kissing her. She moaned against me but I ignored that, waiting for Tanya's next instruction.

_You want to bite the thinnest one. You can drink for longer because there isn't as much blood getting through. It will give you time to stop._

Slowly, one arm lifted to curve around the girl's shoulder to hold her still and with a quick intake of breath I pressed my teeth to her skin and found purchase in the thinnest vein I had been able to locate. My teeth almost didn't fit, almost tearing the vein wall altogether and I felt her gasp against my chest. It would not hurt her while my teeth were inside, but she would feel my mouth on her body.

Her blood began to coat my lips and I lapped greedily, momentarily forgetting that Tanya was still telling me what to do. A—negative or not, it was blood. The liquid was hot and satisfying on my tongue, enough to upset my control and I squeezed her shoulder a little too tightly. I didn't hear anything shatter as I continued to drink short, quick gasps from her neck and I hoped she would only get a bruise.

_Edward!_ Tanya called impatiently. _You have to let go soon. Prepare yourself!_

It was so hard not to ignore her. I wanted to keep drinking forever, until every last drop had gone. It would never be enough. But somehow, I did it. I wrenched my face away from her neck, returning only to flick my tongue over the wound to seal it.

Breathing heavily, clinging precariously to the barest thread of my control, I leaned toward her, my velvety voice whispering in my ear. "I'm sorry, I got carried away." _Not this time._

"Huh," she mumbled, almost incoherent. I smiled faintly as she thought, _Anytime_.

I leaned away from her and told her where the exit was. She left, dazed and lightheaded and Tanya appeared at my shoulder, her whole face lit up in a huge smile.

"You did it!" she squealed.

I smirked smugly. "I did, didn't I?"

Maybe there was hope for me after all.

"Come on." Tanya took my hand and led me out to our booth, where the others were still lounging, chatting animatedly.

Emmett raised his eyebrows at me as I approached, eyiing Tanya's hand clasped around mine but I just rolled my eyes. Emmett was as bad as a human — his mind was _always_ in the gutter.

Tanya explained what had happened while I sat down in the booth beside her, removing my hand from hers and gazing out over the dance floor. I was watching as the disco light hit a particular person with dark hair on the dance floor when something occurred to me, triggered by the color of their hair.

_Bella_.

I was deadly curious as to what her blood tasted like. And now that I had proven to myself that I _was_ capable of tasting and not killing, my curiosity was almost stifling. I really was demented. The rational part of brain knew there were a hundred and one reasons why it was a bad idea — for one, I had only managed not to kill _one_ girl and it wasn't like Bella was going to go for the idea — but the curiosity was overwhelming. Thank God she wasn't my singer.

I shifted awkwardly in my seat, which caught Tanya's attention… and if I could have blushed, I'd have been beetroot by now. Because I had a hard—on in my jeans.

A fucking hard on from thinking of tasting Bella's _blood_.

I belonged in a psychiatric hospital.

"I should head out now," I excused myself, ignoring Tanya's almost hopeful expression. Emmett and Rosalie rolled their eyes — they knew I was never late for my nightly routine of watching Bella sleep. But I was leaving deliberately early this evening because I needed to walk off my curiosity before I decided to kill her in her sleep. The thought of her dying at my hands was sobering enough and as I stepped out of the club, my previous thoughts came back to haunt me.

What _would_ I do when Bella was gone? When she died?

I couldn't see myself going back to how it was before. I could probably head to Volterra in Italy, join the Volturi for some action and exercise to delay the inevitable boredom. How long would I last there? A century? I could catch up with Heidi, have a little fun.

I shook my head, crossing the road quickly after a car had drove by. I was nearly home. I would have been back earlier, only there were too many people around for me to run. It was still early — the sky was not yet black.

As I neared the house, I started to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. All the lights were off, one of the only houses on the street that was currently empty, but there was something off tonight. Something I couldn't pinpoint.

Until I heard him.

"Jacob," I growled, springing up onto the roof of the house, swinging around the chimney to glare down at the man standing in the back garden, his head tilted upwards, his dark eyes glaring. He was not confident tonight — he was almost _defeated_.

The burn of satisfaction flared to life and my lips tilted into a smirk — my plan was working. Before my very eyes, Jacob Black was beginning to fall apart at the seams.

"This is _your_ fucking fault isn't it?!" he barked furiously, his body tense. "That she left me. That she won't get away from this."

I dropped down silently beside him, my eyes narrowed. My hatred for him coursed through my veins, curling my hands into fists, but I didn't move toward him. I did not want to bloody this night, not when I had succeeded in not killing that girl. I knew she left the club when I had let her go — she hadn't relapsed in the club. I felt oddly proud of her. She had been given a chance to live after I was done with her; she needed to do something with that chance.

"It's not all on me, Jacob Black," I told him coldly, flatly. "_You _never listened to her. _You _drove her away." Her sore, swollen face loomed in my mind. "_You_ hit her," I spat.

But he didn't understand me. His thoughts alternated between Bella and I. The dark hole he had fallen into was picking away at his sanity and he had been clinging to Bella to get him out of it, but instead he had just pulled her into it with him. I had severed his hold on her and she had escaped, but he couldn't let her go.

"You took her from me!" he yelled. His voice was agonized, rough. He was murderous. The pain in his thoughts, in his voice, in his movements was darker than any that anyone had ever hoped to contemplate.

Except me.

_He_ had done this to me, and now I was completing the circle.

Creating a balance.

But Bella wasn't dead and he would never understand the agony he had caused me.

He fell to his knees in front of me, his dark face completely stripped and vulnerable as he sunk under his own defeat. He was weak. He hadn't fought for Bella. He had never _seen_ her when she was there. He had created a Bella in his mind that didn't exist. He wanted me to pity him, but how could I when not only had he destroyed me, but he had almost destroyed Bella?

"You win," he said softly, painfully.

But I was not satisfied with this victory.

_Kill me. Please! Kill me…_

I backed away from him, shaking my head. I would not end this for him. I was not that merciful.

"Please," he begged, his voice breaking as tears began to fall down his face.

I wouldn't. I wouldn't break my promise to Bella. She had left him, and I had promised I would not kill him. I would never break a promise to her, it was sacrilege to even consider such an act.

My refusal angered him. His suicidal, unstable attitude made him reckless but he was still clever. I knew that he wanted to goad me into killing him but it would take a lot more than his pitiful attempts to make me break a promise to Bella.

"You're a killer," Jacob stated, his voice hoarse as he levered himself off the damp grass. "You have no conscience." He stepped toward me. "Why can't you kill me?"

"You call me a killer when you can put a gun to someone's head without hesitation?" I demanded coldly. His eyes narrowed, his mind flipping through the scene from all those weeks ago. The man on the table, the feel of the cool gun in his hand, the determination… It played out exactly as Bella said in her dreams. She begged him to stop but he pulled the trigger.

"I only kill vampires," he said pathetically. "Like _her_."

Every nerve in my body tightened as a black rage charged through my body. I knew he was using this as a way to make me snap but I wouldn't kill him. I wouldn't let him manipulate me like this.

"The satisfaction of shoving that vial down her throat was incomparable," he sneered, replaying the scene in his head. I whimpered in pain as I watched, frozen, as her dark, black eyes widened in pain, her soft face crumbling as Jacob stood over her, watching as the poison burned through her body.

I couldn't take it. A whimper of pain escaped my lips. I fought hard to block him but he was shoving the image in my face _over and over again_.

"Kill me," Jacob said.

"No," I rasped.

"Kill me," he repeated.

"No."

"KILL ME!"

"_No_!"

I was trying so hard to block him that I wasn't prepared for what happened next. He hurled a vial of Dead Man's Blood at me, and because of his proximity, I was unable to dodge it on time. The bottle shattered on my chest, seeping through my shirt and burning my skin.

I heard Rosalie's BMW pull up out front and Jacob started to back down the garden as I sank to my knees, my chest burning. The agony tearing through my body wasn't just because of the poison. Rosalie and Emmett hurried out into the garden, gasping when they saw me, crumpled up on the grass. If I had been able to cry, tears would have been burning trails down my cheeks by now. Instead, I was heaving dry, heavy sobs while my skin erupted in flames.

"Edward!" Rosalie crouched down in front of me, holding my face in her hands. She hissed when she saw the Dead Man's Blood on my clothes, and tried to get Emmett to help her try to lift me up from the ground. I pulled away from her, shaking my head and I started to sprint away from them, away from the garden, away from… everything.

I didn't know where I was running to — I was trusting my feet to take me to oblivion. My chest ached, my skin ached, my dead heart ached and for the first time in my immortal existence I started to wonder if there was ever a point to this forever. Would it be so bad to die?

_Bella_.

I realized that I was standing outside her window when I finally came to a stop. She was the reason I couldn't die. Who would keep Bella safe? Who would make sure that Jacob never ever touched her again?

I heaved open her window with weak hands and crawled into the rocking chair, closing my eyes as the burning began to consume my entire body.

"Edward."

I froze.

Bella shifted restlessly on the bed, her hair splayed out around her head like a halo. Her fingers touched her neck in her sleep and she murmured incoherently, her clear, low voice muffled by her pillow.

"Edward…" She let out a soft sigh.

I realized she was dreaming about me.

"Safe…" she whispered. "Edward."

The agony in my heart began to ease and I slid off the rocking chair, crawling toward her and falling onto the carpet beside her bed. I leaned my head back against her duvet. She shifted slightly closer as if she knew I was there and I lifted a weak hand and placed it on her pillow, close to her head. When her small hand curved around mine, my breathing hitched and for one long, endless moment as I stared into her face, the truth began to dawn on me.

In the club, when I had fantasized about drinking her blood, I had only been acknowledging half of what my subconscious had already realized. I wanted to taste Bella's blood, but… I wanted _her_ as well. She was the one I returned to every night. She was the one I came crawling to when I had nowhere else to go. She was the girl I couldn't hear, she was the girl who called my name in her sleep, she was the girl curved her hand around mine.

She was the girl I could never have, and the only girl I could ever want now.


	10. Edge of Control

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
**

* * *

**10. EDGE OF CONTROL  
**

* * *

**B.  
**

"I'm sorry about this, Bella," Mrs. Newton apologized for what felt like the hundredth time as she fixed her make—up in the reflection of one of the metal shelves stacked against the wall.

I just shrugged, having already resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be home for another three hours at least. Newtons' was always open late on weekdays, but usually I could leave because business was slow. Mrs. Newton and Mrs. Stanley were heading out to dinner this evening, and Mr. Newton was going with them, leaving Mike, Tyler and I in charge of the shop until they got back around nine or so. They had promised not to be late, but according to Mike, this usually meant they'd be gone at least an hour later than they expected, and I could almost see his face light up with glee at the thought. He was still trying to ask me out any chance he got.

It was the first time I'd seen Tyler around since Eric had died in the storeroom. The official story was that Eric had fallen from a ladder and cracked his head open on a shelf. I was sure that Tyler believed it, but he was skittish about being in Newtons' again. I think that Mike barely noticed Eric's absence but Tyler was more affected by it. Despite being led around by his dick, Tyler was a nice guy and he was still mourning his friend.

"I shouldn't be more than a few hours," Mrs. Newton promised, quickly brushing her already painted eyelashes with another coat of mascara. "And I'll make sure this goes in your pay check…"

For the Newtons, the world revolved around money, I noticed with a sigh. I didn't actually know what I was saving my money for — I wasn't low on art supplies and I wasn't planning on moving out any time soon. Charlie needed someone to look after him and I was more than happy to do the job.

Mr. Newton appeared in the shop doorway in a dark suit, his hair gelled like Mike's and bleached blond. He looked like one of the models in a clothing catalog — the pretty men with vacant minds. Mrs. Newton wore the trousers in that relationship.

"Bye, guys! Be good, now," Mrs. Newton called as she hurried out the door after her husband, leaving Mike, Tyler and I alone for the evening. As it turned out, business was slower than slow. Dead would be a more appropriate word.

I had thought it would be a night of fending off possible dates with Mike but he was strangely sullen this evening. I imagined it was Tyler's influence — he barely smiled at all, but he _had_ brought a packet of playing cards and we spent over two hours playing poker, barely talking to each other at all. The pair of them were amateurs at the game and I was a pro. When the game wasn't on, Billy would teach me to play. No one on the reservation would play with him because he was too sneaky playing cards. By the end of our game, I had won just over forty dollars and both of them were down this week's pocket money.

"Damn, Bella, you're good," Mike mused, his head resting tiredly in the palms of his hands. His elbows were balanced on the countertop in front of me. Tyler was playing with one of the hooks from the bag, watching as the orange light reflected at odd angles over the surface of the metal.

"I learned from a master," I murmured. I had climbed off my stool and was now sitting cross—legged where Rosalie sat a few days ago, my back to the wall. We hadn't had a customer in over an hour. I sighed, my mind reverting back to Billy and Jacob. Charlie and Billy's relationship was strained, but at least they were still talking. Billy never came back to the house when I was there, and Charlie never mentioned Jake. I knew that he hadn't gone to Seattle yet to take up that job, but he hadn't come to see me. Charlie probably would have killed him had he tried — I had never seen Charlie so furious as he shoved Jake out the door.

"Hey, Mike," Tyler said. "You know we haven't had a customer in like… forever?"

"Mom said it would be slow," Mike pointed out.

"She said _slow_, not _dead_," I murmured.

"Bella's right," Tyler agreed. "Anyway, _Supernatural_ is on in like five minutes."

"I guess we could lock up…"

"Right." I hopped down off the countertop, grabbing my bag. "I'm off, then."

"See you," they both called, waving absentmindedly as Mike fished out the keys and began to lock up. Tyler was probably staying the night by the looks of things — it was the only reason I could come up with to explain why he had willingly stayed in the shop for so long. I slipped into my coat and stepped out into the street, sighing quietly as it started to rain.

I started to walk quickly and quietly through the streets toward my neighborhood, ignoring all other pedestrians and the few cars that passed on the road. The outskirts of the city were usually quiet at this time of night. I turned the corner of the second last street, my heart doing a weird somersault in my chest as I noticed someone leaning against the wall of one of the buildings along the path I was headed. He was leaning casually against the brick, his arms folded loosely over his chest. I thought that maybe it was Edward waiting for me, but as I got closer I realized I didn't know him at all — but he had seen me looking at him and now his own eyes were staring at me curiously, appraisingly. He could hardly have been much older than me, but his clothes were dark, rough and his slightly yellow teeth gleamed in the street light.

"It's a bit past your bed time, isn't it, darlin'?" he grinned, his eyes following me as I passed. I ducked my head, hiding behind the curtain of my dark hair and ignoring his comment. My heart began to beat faster in my chest and I tried to quicken my steps without making it obvious.

"Hey! Where are you goin'?" I could hear his footsteps now, low and even beneath the thumping of my own furious heartbeat. "Now, don't be like that…"

A heavy hand fell on my shoulder and I jumped, my mouth opening in a silent scream as another grimy, sweaty hand clamped over my mouth.

"Now, ssh, darlin'," the unpleasant, rasping voice crooned in my ear. I was frozen in fear as the hand on my shoulder began to slide down my shoulder, over the front of my jacket. The hand on my mouth held me flush against his bulky frame and the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke flooded my nostrils. He started to unbutton the front of my jacket and I tried to struggle against his hand, pushing his away with my cold, clammy hands but he swung me around, pushing me roughly against the brick wall. I whimpered in pain and he pressed his knee between my legs, his hot, rancid breath making me want to gag.

He caught my wrists and shoved them over my mouth with one hand while he tore at my jacket with the other, laughing softly under his breath as he tore the material.

He was reaching for the neck of my sweater when his head snapped back suddenly, a loud, resounding crack echoing in the sudden silent. My heart stopped in chest as blood began to leak from his mouth, spreading over his lips in a steady, crimson stream. I choked back a scream and lifted my eyes from his lifeless face and into the eyes of my savior.

"Edward," I choked out, tears blurring my vision as the man was suddenly ripped away from me. I heard a thud somewhere beside us, but I didn't look away from his face. The street light reflected oddly off his skin, his dark eyes almost glowing a violent red. His jaw was rigid.

His arm snapped out, faster than I was prepared for, and the ground disappeared from under me.

"Hold on," he instructed, his voice low and controlled. He swung me onto his back with ease, only waiting a second for me to wrap my arms around his chest and my legs around his waist before he sprinted forward.

He shot like a bullet through the streets. I couldn't close my eyes, my eyes stinging from the rush of air in my face, and my stomach seized with motion sickness. Slowly, I let my head rest against the back of his neck. The panic began to abate almost instantaneously as I inhaled the delicious, alluring scent of his skin, concentrating on the slow flex of his muscles and his even breathing.

_Safe_.

He stopped as suddenly as he had started, and before I could settle my stomach, he swung me off his back and set me down in front of him. I stumbled, my head swirling dizzily and he caught me, gentler this time.

"You need to go inside," he said roughly.

"But…" My voice was choked, hoarse.

"Go, Bella." He sounded mildly threatening, and I didn't doubt that he would force me in there if I didn't go. As soon as I was able, I obeyed. I stumbled onto the porch and fumbled around in my torn jacket for my keys. Edward disappeared and I forced the keys into the lock, taking a deep breath to try and steady myself. It occurred to me that I probably looked a mess, and that Charlie was going to start fussing over me, demanding to know what had happened. I didn't think I could deal with that right now.

I slipped inside the door, clicking it shut carefully behind me.

"Is that you, Bells?" Charlie called from the living room. There were a few cheers, and I realized he was watching the game.

"Yeah, Dad," I replied, forcing my voice to be as steady as I could make it. "Did you have dinner?"

"Uh, yeah… I was at Billy's," he said awkwardly.

"Good." I took a deep breath. My hands shook as I slipped the keys back into my pocket. "I'm going to go to bed now, okay?"

"Alright, Bells. Sleep well."

"You too." I hurried to the stairs, hurling myself up the steps and, hands shaking, I pushed open my bedroom door, clicking it shut behind me and sliding onto a heap on the ground. My teeth began to chatter as silent tears slid silently down my face, blurring my vision. I ripped my torn jacket off with shaking fingers, flinging it across the floor in disgust. I drew my knees up to my chest, shivering as a chill began to creep over my skin but I was too tired to go to my closet and get another jacket out.

The offending, torn garment seemed to leer at me across the floor and I stared at it angrily, brushing tears impatiently out of my eyes. The panic that Edward had staved off began to seep into my skin and the smell of the man's rancid breath seemed to crawl over every inch of my body where I imagined his hands would have gone.

"Fuck, Bella!" I glanced up, jumping as Edward climbed swiftly through my window, his bronze hair glued to his head from the rain. He was at my side almost immediately, scooping me up into his cold embrace.

_Safe_.

I didn't realize where he was carrying me until he sat me down on the lid of the toilet in my bathroom and began flicking on the shower switch, moving the dial toward warmer temperatures.

"Rosalie!" he hissed.

I jumped as the tall blonde appeared in the door, her brow creased in a frown as she glanced at me, shivering on the toilet, my teeth chattering quietly beneath the noise of the shower.

Edward left the room but Rosalie lifted me gently, her voice soft.

"Can you stand, Bella?"

I nodded silently. She let me go, but she helped me remove my clothes. I stepped into the shower, wincing as the hot, stinging water pelted my shoulders and my head. I grabbed a bar of soap and imagined I was scrubbing every trace of his breath, his hands, his smell from my body, cleansing every surface until my skin was nearly peeling.

Rosalie had left a clean pair of sweats and a t—shirt on the toilet seat for me to use and I climbed into them silently, no longer shivering. Edward was sitting in the rocking chair when I finally emerged, his dark red eyes glaring at the ceiling and his hands rigid on the arms of the chair.

He didn't look at me when the bathroom door clicked shut and I remained standing where I was, feeling awkward.

He saved my life.

I didn't know what to say to him. "Thanks" seemed inadequate, but it was the only thing I could think of that made any sense. The sense of relief I had felt when I had seen him standing there and known I was safe had been overwhelming. I didn't understand any of it — he killed people as easily as flicking his wrist and yet… he'd saved _me._

"Thank you," I blurted.

He hissed, still glaring at the ceiling.

I waited for a long, nervous moment but he didn't say anything, his face still rigid.

"Edward?" I asked uncertainly.

His eyes flickered to mine, their dark depths livid. My heart rate began to accelerate in my chest but I didn't move away from the door.

"What the fuck were you doing on the streets at this hour?" he demanded, his voice quiet, controlled.

I flinched. "I — I was working…" I took a deep breath. "Mrs. Newton asked me to work late."

"Bella, do you ever say _no_?"

"Excuse me?" I blinked, suddenly angry. "I am quite capable of saying _no_, Edward!"

He snorted. "You let Jacob mess you around for years and you never told him no."

"Is that what this is about?" I moved away from the door, my own face livid. Who the hell did he think he was? He made it sound like I'd… like I'd _wanted_ that man to rape me, like I'd _wanted_ Jake to hit me.

Edward sneered at me. "You'd still go back to him, wouldn't you, Bella? I've got centuries of experience watching abusive relationships and you'll go crawling back as soon as you think I won't hurt him, won't you, Bella?"

I would have hit him if I wasn't positive that I'd break my fist in the process. Centuries of experience didn't compare to how I _knew_ that Jacob and I were over. I couldn't go back to him, ever, and I wouldn't. The Jacob I loved was gone — if he had ever existed — and what I felt hadn't been strong enough to endure our relationship. Somewhere along the line, it would have crashed. Edward was just a catalyst.

"I won't," I said softly, shaking my head. "I have more self—respect than that." I don't know why I wanted him to believe me, only that I needed him to.

Edward continued to sneer at me, obviously doubting my words. "And you can just forget that you love him?"

My voice hardened. "The Jacob I loved doesn't exist anymore."

"And you blame me?" Edward continued arrogantly. He thought he had everything figured out in his head but he knew nothing about me.

"No." I started to pace. "Jake chose to do what he does. You didn't make him."

"So you blame yourself," Edward concluded softly. There was no scorn in his voice and it made me feel vulnerable, like he knew all my secrets. I didn't answer him, he already knew.

"Why did you save me?" I asked abruptly. I turned to him, watching his face as he absorbed my question.

"Would you rather I left you there?" he countered.

"Answer the question." I refused to be deterred.

He stared at me stonily but he didn't scare me. He didn't understand how I felt around him — I couldn't even explain it to myself, but if I was anything, I wasn't scared. He began to realize that I wouldn't back down and I could see his mind working to think of an answer that would keep his secrets and satisfy my curiosity at the same time.

"It was a reflex action," he said finally.

"_A r__eflex action_?" I repeated angrily. He could at least have said something more plausible but this… _this_ was insulting. "_A r__eflex action_ would have been to kill both of us — you're _you_ remember?" I was pacing again; I did it a lot when I was frustrated. I could feel Edward's unreadable gaze on my back as I turned. "You killed _Eric_, Edward — why the hell can't you kill _me_?"

"I don't know," he said coldly.

"Stop _lying_ to me!" I nearly yelled at him. "Just once, _please_ tell me the truth."

I waited. Moment after moment slipped by but he just stared at me, his jaw rigid and his mouth completely silent. I nearly groaned in frustration when tears sprang in my eyes and I started to pace again to hide them from him.

But suddenly, his fingers were curling around my wrist, whirling me around and before I could say anything or protest, his mouth crashed down on mine.

The second his cold, hard lips met mine, it felt like my skin was on fire. My heart hammered in my ears but I didn't care that he could hear it — let him know what he did to me. There was desperation in this kiss. I could feel it in the way his hands fisted around the hem of my t—shirt, holding me tight against him as he struggled to be careful, but a part of me didn't want him to. I fisted my hands in his hair and electricity ignited over every surface of skin that touched his.

Somehow, everything made sense. When had Jake ever tried to kiss me like this? I could only think of one time, and then I had slapped him. It had felt wrong, not like now. Never like now.

"Fuck!" Edward cursed, disappearing from my grip so suddenly that I stumbled, falling back onto my bed. I drew my knees up to my head, willing my heart to still as I stared at where Edward was standing behind the rocking chair. I could feel the shock and hurt on my face, but I couldn't make myself re—arrange my features to a more neutral expression.

Edward was still cursing under his breath, staring at the ceiling and pinching the bridge of his nose.

I didn't understand how I felt then as I watched him curse — he couldn't even look at me and I knew he was regretting what he'd done. My stomach twisted and dropped my gaze, my skin prickling hotly.

"Get out," I said softly. My instincts screamed at me "NO!" but I couldn't deal with him watching my humiliation. I didn't look at him — I knew that he had heard me. The window slid open and he was gone, disappearing into the night.

I stared after him for a long time but he never came back. I wanted him to come back — I wanted him to come back with a strength that amazed me - but he never did.

Around three in the morning, I brought a few cans of paint into my room from the art room and threw an old sheet onto the floor to protect the floorboards as I attempted to finish my painting. Tears and paint blurred together, brush stroke after brush stroke hitting the canvas with a soft rhythm. Somehow, it had all made sense. It _still_ made sense if I was being honest. I couldn't blame him for Jake's new characteristics. I couldn't hate him for forcing me to break Jake and I up. I couldn't regret that he had saved my life.

I took a step back and I realized the truth was staring me in the face.

Dark, incandescent, crimson eyes.

_His_ eyes.

"I'm in love with him," I realized.

* * *

**E.**

"Get out," Bella said softly.

My mouth snapped shut and I glanced at her, my abdomen tightening instinctively as she ducked her head, pulling her knees up to her chest. I had hurt her — damn it, I was _always_ hurting her!

I slipped back out the window, obeying her wishes because I had to _stop_. It never bothered me before, being so selfish, taking what I wanted for my own selfish reasons. When had I ever cared what another person thought? I sprinted home, my mind flashing with images of her face, when I'd seen that _bastard_… It was the first time in over three weeks I had hunted because I couldn't tear myself away from Bella's room at night. The one night I thought that she would be safe. I was so angry with myself that I hadn't found her sooner, so eager to get her away from there — and I was too excited from the hunt to be in control of myself so easily. Seeing her lying there against her bedroom door had torn had my insides. Safe, and yet still _hurt_.

I had to stop.

_Stop._

I took it out on her. My anger. My frustration. My worry. I used Jacob as an excuse — and I was just as bad as him! I wasn't good for her, all I did was bring her down with me into the same black hole that Jacob and I created for ourselves.

I pushed open the front door to the house and it clicked shut behind me. Rosalie appeared on the stairway, her brow creased in a frown. Emmett was close behind her.

"Is Bella alright?" Rosalie asked worriedly.

I stared at her; she was genuinely worried. I had never seen Rosalie worried about a human before.

"Yes," I said curtly. They were curious as to what I was doing here instead of at Bella's, but I couldn't go back there. I strode past them, into my room. After about an hour of playing some horrific pop song variations, Rosalie finally stormed inside, irritated by my attitude.

"Get out," I said without looking up.

"No," Rosalie retorted, slamming the lid of the piano shut. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I glared silently at her, ignoring her thoughts. There was a lot of things wrong with me — I was a fucked up person, so it probably came with the territory. I fucking kissed her, I wanted to yell. _Me_. And it wasn't some sick, prelude—to—a—kill kiss, or a repulsive kiss I had to endure, because her lips had been so soft, her body so pliant against mine… and I was so fucked up that I wanted her when I believed myself in love before, and would never want someone else. I hadn't even wanted _her_ like I wanted Bella and I nearly destroyed everything for _her._

I never wanted to do that again.

"Why did you let me stay here with you and Emmett?" I asked Rosalie seriously, glancing up at her as she lifted herself onto my bed, glancing around my room with distaste.

Her gaze flickered toward me and she sighed. "You're like my brother, Edward."

"But back then?" I prompted. "I'm not like you and Emmett, Rose. I don't care about killing people, about any of it."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "And you think I do? I'm as bad as you!"

I knew it disturbed her, sometimes. We _were_ similar in that regard. Humans were _prey_ to us, not _people._ I wasn't alone, not really.

"Listen," Rosalie said, moving to sit on the bench next to me. "You're a vampire, Edward. This is what we _do_. We're not supposed to feel guilty."

None of it made sense anymore. I was fine without a conscience. I could live with myself without the guilt, but what was I supposed to do now? I could try to blame Bella for this, for resurrecting old instincts, feelings… but who could blame Bella for anything?

"There's something I need to do," I said finally. "Can I borrow your car?"

Rosalie debated for a moment, and then reluctantly surrendered her keys. "If you hurt my baby, I'll kill you, got it?"

"Love you too, Rose," I said, sprinting out the door before it could register that I'd never said that to her before. But after so long, she really was my sister.

I climbed into her car, checking the gas meter and sighing in relief when I saw that it was nearly full. I wasn't planning on stopping any time soon. I had a vague idea of where I was going, and could only hope that I was right about going there.

I put the car in gear, regretting that for the first time in weeks I wasn't going to find some sort of solace in Bella's room. But I had to do this. I needed to know how to stop hurting her. I couldn't be selfish like this anymore — how had she not told me to leave earlier? Before I had even met her, I had hurt her. I destroyed the boy she loved. I had forced her to leave him. And if I killed him, Bella would be hurt because I promised her I wouldn't.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Hours and hours past. Snow began to form on mountains as state line after state line drifted by.

Finally, I turned the car into a narrow driveway, not really knowing what to expect. The large house was like one I remembered, a large, whitewash brick house and a wide red front door. Nervously, I cut off the engine and stepped outside the car, sighing deeply as I stared up at the majestic house. Assailed by memories, I walked slowly up to the front door and rapped quietly on the front door.

It was opened almost immediately a tall, blond vampire stood, looking tired and drawn in the large hall. His light, honeyed eyes reflected surprise and wariness as he cleared his throat.

"Edward?"

"Hello, Carlisle."


	11. Descent Into Darkness

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
**

* * *

**11. DESCENT INTO DARKNESS  
**

* * *

**E.  
**

_1918_

It felt like I had been dreaming for seventeen yearsand suddenly, I was being woken from my slumber to a brighter, more colorful world than I could ever have expected. A tainted, diseased world unlike any dream I wished I would ever have.

My eyes fluttered open and stared into the face of an angel, a woman so beautiful she took my breath away. When my breathing cut off, I was startled to realize it was uncomfortable but not necessary.

_Well, hello there._ I watched through new eyes as the angel's full lips curved into an alluring smile, her vibrant red hair cascading over her shoulders.

"Excuse me?" I asked. I didn't recognize the voice that passed my lips — it was too smooth, velvety. Tense, I tried to stand but as soon as I thought to do so, I appeared exactly where I had intended to be.

"Well, aren't you just _delectable_," the angel mused, laughing. Her voice, like mine, was smooth and flawless. I stopped staring at her face as memories started to flood back — the dark path, the cloaked woman, the _pain_.

She reached out a pale, slender hand to touch my cheek but I took an automatic step backwards, my nostrils flaring as my whole body tensed into a defensive position.

"Bring him in," the angel called. I glanced around, realizing I was in a small, dark bedroom. No candles burned and the curtains were firmly shut… yet I could see perfectly. The door swung open and a man was pushed inside, pale and terrified.

_Oh, Jesus. What the hell is this place?_

I blinked. His lips weren't moving, yet I could hear him clearly.

_Let's see what he does now_.

I glanced at the angel, and she smiled alluringly.

"Hungry, darling?"

It took one word for me to snap. One single, solitary word and my throat flamed, my stomach seized and the most desirable scent I could ever imagine flooded my senses.

I lunged before I had processed what I was doing and my teeth sank into the neck of the man in front of me, tearing into his skin until his blood seeped into my mouth and slipped down my throat. There was nothing that had ever compared to the taste of his blood on my tongue. But I started to wonder what I was doing.

Backing away from the corpse, I clutched at my chest, my fear escalating as I realized there was no heartbeat where my heart should have been.

"What have you done?" I screamed, my voice terrifying and beautiful.

The angel smiled gracefully. "I have made you a vampire."

* * *

Her name was Victoria, my creator, and I hated her so much that my hands curled into fists whenever her dainty hands would touch my body. I was her play–toy and I was so confused and terrified in my new position that it never occurred to me that I could have escaped her easily. I was stronger than she was, I was faster than she was... but she had a control over me I scarcely understood. That was, until a year after my change when I had gained enough self control to live amongst my prey in Chicago and I saw _her_.

_My mother_.

I remembered her face from my dreams before my awakening and I felt such a longing for her that I disobeyed Victoria and snuck into her house one night, compelled by the need to let her know I was alive.

I stood in the doorway and watched her in her chair, knitting carefully as she stared mournfully at the fire. The pale light cast her skin in a warm glow but she looked sallower, weaker than I remembered. Her rich, green eyes seemed sunken in her face, her face more wrinkled than a woman her age should be.

"Mother," I whispered softly. She glanced up, her heartbeat accelerating and I realized I had frightened her.

"Edward?" she asked hesitantly. I stepped into the dim light, eager now. She had recognized me.

But as she continued to stare at me, her eyes grew wide and her heartbeat accelerated to an almost intolerable level. I could _smell_ her fear as she backed slowly away from me, whimpering when her back hit the wall.

"Mother?" I repeated nervously. "It's me."

She shook her head in denial, her lips trembling. Her fingers clutched the rosary beads around her neck. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed…"

Something dark and threatening lodged itself in my body, overriding every thought and emotion I felt. Rejection, real and strong, tainted my veins and I was unprepared for the strength of the emotion as it tore through my body.

She thought I was some kind of devil, an evil creature that had taken possession of her son. My ability had developed over the year, and it wasn't difficult to read the fear and the deep sorrow in her now. She would not believe it was me, because it _wasn't_. Not truly. Her son, Edward Masen, would not kill, pillage, murder.

It was at that moment, staring at my mother, that I realized what I had truly become. I couldn't cling to the remnants of my humanity because I was something else entirely. Something evil.

When I left my mother that night, I went straight to the inn that Victoria was staying at, toying with a few more of her newborns. She played on their emotions, teasing them, playing them off against each other while she used me to fulfill her "needs". I was her favorite, she would croon in my ear, as if I actually gave a damn. As if I was still under her thumb.

I slammed the door of our room shut and she lifted herself from the low bed, a slow, sultry smile on her lips. But instead of enduring her ministrations, the moment her hands touched my body, they were ripped from her arms. Piece by piece, I began to rip her apart, oblivious to her screams, oblivious to anything but the pain and anger raging through my body — and it was all because of _her_. She was no match for me now.

The entire inn burnt down that night. Rumors circulated about a demon who had visited that night, a story that left villagers terrified in their beds for years afterwards. But I did not ever go back to Chicago. I fled into the mountains, away from people, temptation… for years, I staved off the thirst by killing animals but it was unsatisfying and bitterness only grew. My existence was nothing here. I was hiding from who I truly was and as my bitterness grew, the darkness inside me began to takeover.

The first time a human stumbled into my territory was the first time I began to operate without a conscience. I didn't feel guilty about killing him because he satisfied my thirst.

Easy.

* * *

It was a long time before I arrived in Forks, WA. Decades of murder, sex and violence that blended into each other, meaningless events that shaped the course of my life and the selfishness of my character. I was bored and I craved excitement, something that would distract me. Living forever had it's drawbacks.

I was heading south alone one evening when I found myself in the middle of a quiet village, somewhere insignificant, but I could smell something different in the area.

_Vampires_?

Curious, I waited until daylight hours. The cloud cover provided relief from the sunlight and I was able to meander the small village market without raising suspicion. A new arrival would spark the locals' curiosity but I wouldn't be a source of fear.

It was at the market that I first saw her. I had seen many vampires over the years, but she was the most beautiful of them all. She was tall and willowy, and elegant creature with a smooth, oval face and soft caramel hair. Her musical voice haunted me as she spoke to the grocer she was buying her goods from, a pretense because she did not eat. Her laugh was the most musical sound I had ever heard. But it was her eyes that held me enthralled. They were the most beautiful shade of butterscotch, tilted slightly and surrounded by thick, dark lashes on her pale lavender lids.

I knew then that I had to have her.

But even as I thought about approaching her, a man strode up behind her, his pale arms twining around her waist as she laughed. I knew him from others' thoughts; he had tidy blond hair and charismatic features, as well as characteristic golden eyes, softened from years of practice. Carlisle Cullen. I watched, my body taut, as he kissed her neck, taking the basket of fruit from her and smiling with her as they began to leave the market together. But as the wind shifted, I watched as his eyes lifted and met mine across the market place, his expression… curious, if wary.

We met on the outskirts of town, away from curious ears and close to their home. It was difficult to tear my eyes from the beautiful woman, but Carlisle was different than I imagined. I had tried his way of life but it had bored me. Carlisle… Carlisle seemed content with the way he lived his life, something I had strived to achieve for decades. Something told me it was because of _her_.

His wife.

Esme.

"Are you just passing through?" Carlisle asked me.

I shook my head, a lie already formulating in my mind. "I heard… of your way of life. I thought that maybe… you could teach me." It was not a complete lie — I would have done anything to be as content as him, even if that meant that I had to take Esme from him. It didn't cross my mind that she might have objected; I always got what I wanted, and I had been denied nothing since the night that Victoria had burned. I was selfish, but it was the only way I knew how to be.

Carlisle stared at me appraisingly for a long moment before he finally nodded his head, his lips curving into a wide, friendly smile. "What is your name?"

"Edward. Edward Masen," I told him.

"Edward." Carlisle nodded. "This is my wife, Esme." I already knew this, of course. He pronounced her name with barely concealed adoration and my gut tightened in jealously. He held me in an embrace for a brief moment, and then Esme went to do the same. I held her delicately, as if she would break. She had the most delicious scent, like wild flowers and sunlight.

They brought me back to their home and for the second time in my life, I adapted myself to drinking the blood of animals. Over the passing year, my eyes began to color, first becoming vermilion and then a golden, honeyed color, like theirs. I became known as Esme's brother to the village folk to satisfy their curiosity but the Quileute reservation was not happy with the new member of Carlisle's family. They believed I was trouble, rightly so, but I never broke the rules of the tentative treaty Carlisle held with them. I was very careful not to break the fragile hold I had, all because of a woman.

Esme.

Steadily, over the passing decade, I fell more and more in love with her. To think that such a woman was a bloodthirsty vampire was blasphemy — Esme would not hurt a fly. She was beautiful, gentle… everything I imagined my wife would have been, had I stayed human. Her trust in me grew along with Carlisle's — I truly became a part of their family, and slowly my willingness to destroy that trust began to fade. I didn't want to hurt Carlisle by taking his wife from him — I still believed I could, but I wouldn't. Despite the fact that I couldn't ever touch her in any way other than platonically, it was enough for me to see her smile, to hear her laugh. Everything was almost perfect.

It was 2003 when I got a visitor late one night. I was playing the grand piano Carlisle had surprised me with after learning I could play, composing a lullaby for Esme as I listened to her thoughts to reassure myself that she liked it. I wanted it to make her smile.

When the commotion began, I hurried downstairs immediately with Carlisle to find a tall, dark figure in the kitchen, talking to Esme. Carlisle flicked on the lights, his thoughts calm and composed as he assessed the situation.

"Thank God, Carlisle!" Esme exclaimed. "This man, he says he knows Edward —"

"James?" I asked doubtfully, my entire body tensing.

"Hi, Edward." It only took the sound of his voice for my happiness to crash around me. A deep chill began to settle in the pit of my stomach as I stared into the violent, bright red eyes of the vampire in front of me, his blond hair tied back into a hastily made pony—tail and his pearly white teeth gleaming under the yellow light. I hadn't ever expected to see him again. He, like me, had been created by Victoria, but unlike me, he had fallen for every word that came out of her mouth. I doubted he had been impressed with me the night that Victoria perished.

"What are you doing here?" I asked warily, glancing at Carlisle and Esme. They knew little of my past — they had known I had obviously killed humans because of the color of my eyes, but they knew nothing about my beginning. About the darkness I had almost been consumed by.

"I came to see how you were doing! We used to be friends, remember?" He made it sound menacing, that I had turned my back on him in some way. I probably had — I left all of Victoria's toys to fend for themselves, but then, I'd had to do that too.

"That was a long time ago," I said.

James rolled his eyes. "We're immortal, Edward. Time doesn't actually matter."

"It does to me."

"Edward," Carlisle interrupted. "Esme and I are going to give you a little time to talk with your friend, okay? We won't be far — just hunting."

I nodded curtly and they left, closing the front door with a quiet click behind them. When they were out of hearing distance, I turned back to James, my jaw rigid.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" I exclaimed.

"I could ask you the same thing! Jesus, Edward, look at your eyes," James pointed out. "You've gone all tame."

"It's not like that," I said through gritted teeth.

James rolled his eyes. "And what's it like then? You abandon us to play _house_ with a doctor and his harebrained wife?"

"She's _not_ harebrained!" My hands curled into fists, anger slowly rising to the surface. I hadn't felt like this in such a long time. I wanted to stop but it was too delicious, too addictive like adrenaline. James was right, in a roundabout way. I _had_ become tame. I was exactly the creature I had loathed myself for being on that mountain, and I'd walked into the trap with my eyes open. For a _woman_. I had become so _weak_ that I couldn't convince myself that I could have her anymore — why shouldn't I have her? I loved her, didn't I?

"You did all this for a _woman_?" James sneered. Fuck him, he was right. I hated him for it, but he was right.

"Would you have done it for Victoria?" I sneered back. He visibly stiffened, his sneer replaced by pure anger and hatred. His fist slammed down on the table, splintering the table.

"Don't you fucking dare talk about her!" James yelled.

"You still think I'm so _tame_, James?" I demanded, shoving him up against the wall before he could register what I was doing. Though we were both vampires, I was stronger than he was — he was more slight than I was, smaller. There was a reason he was known in circles as the 'Rat'. He was slippery, fast… but not strong like I was. It was like adrenaline in my veins, this new, electric feeling. The thought of hurting him made me smirk — how long had it been since I hadn't cared what he felt?

I let him go abruptly and he fell to the floor. He shrugged, climbing to his feet immediately, more humiliated than hurt.

"Get out," I told him.

He did not need telling twice.

Esme and Carlisle came back and though I assured them that I was fine, that nothing was wrong, the monster was still loose inside my veins and I was not the creature I loathed. I was _free_. I wanted to taste _real_ blood again. The longing was almost overwhelming and the only thing that kept me patient was Esme. I would have her first, I knew.

It was almost too easy when the moment came. Carlisle decided to hunt, but Esme was painting the bedrooms again and she opted to go in a few days with me instead. I was sitting in the living room when Carlisle walked inside, shrugging on a jacket.

"Edward?" he asked, glancing up warily as he spoke in whispered tones. I realized he didn't want Esme to hear what he was saying.

"Carlisle." I stood, my eyebrows raised expectantly.

"You'll look after her for me while I'm gone, won't you?" Carlisle asked. He looked worried. "She's not used to being on her own, and I need to know that she's safe with you."

"Of course," I said immediately. "It would be my pleasure." _Literally._

Carlisle seemed satisfied with my response and he left then, calling out to Esme on his way. For all his concerns, Esme seemed to be fine, I noted from the tenor of her thoughts. She hummed the lullaby I had composed for her under her breath and I followed the sound of it up the stairs, my stomach tightening in anticipation.

Esme glanced at me in surprise when I appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame as I watched her paint, her rough dress illuminated by the stream of sunlight coming through the window. Her skin glittered faintly under the light, and she was beautiful.

It was easier than I thought it would be to go against Carlisle. Now that I was _myself _again, I didn't even feel guilty about it.

I pressed my lips to hers, cradling her head in my hands as I tried to show her why I was doing this. I told her I loved her, whispering her name against her lips as I held her, pressing kisses to her mouth and pulling her closer to me. I had not yet grasped how to read minds without concentration and I was guided only by the fact that she wasn't attempting to push me away. I laid her down on the bed opposite the wall she was painting, climbing over her and supporting my weight on my elbows as I continued to kiss her. She tasted as sweet as she smelled, wildflowers and sunlight. Slowly, I undressed her, touching her skin, her body in reverence. I believed I was taking what was already mine; I loved her and she was mine. I made love to her, telling her I loved her as I moved inside her. I reassured her that it would be okay, that I loved her… she was _mine_.

When it was over, I held her, gazing into her golden eyes but she did not smile. They were dark with a deep sorrow I did not understand and I wanted to kiss it away, but I knew that I couldn't. I knew that as much as I loved her, _I_ was the cause of that sorrow. I knew it as soon as she opened her mouth.

"Carlisle." It was a choked sob.

The familiar darkness enveloped me, the new, electric adrenaline collapsing as quickly as it had flooded my system. Esme wasn't mine, I knew it and I took her anyway because that was who I _was_. I loved her and my love had hurt her.

* * *

Almost two days later, a woman on the reservation, Sarah Black, died. Esme and I hadn't spoken of what happened but I noticed a change in her that Carlisle was very much aware of. She barely spoke and there was no light in her once beautiful golden eyes. Carlisle feared for her, and I could feel the thick blanket of despair she had wrapped herself in and she refused to come out of it.

Rumors began to circulate about us after the death of Sarah Black — her husband, Billy, was completely sure that we had broken the treaty after he found his wife's body in the forest, mangled and broken. Carlisle helped perform the autopsy and he was sure it had been one of our kind too but he didn't know who it was — though I did.

_James_.

He would jeopardize my security over an old wound. I knew it was him. Carlisle and I fought over it for hours until we realized that Esme had gone missing from the house and I couldn't find her with my ability anywhere. We searched Forks frantically for her and the longer it took to find her, the more the darkness began to consume me. I considered my conscience and me to be two separate people now, and appalled at the darkness I was slowly letting consume me, my conscience was fleeing along with my guilt over Esme. Almost as if that part of me wanted to keep her safe from the real _me_, never knowing that there was nothing left to keep safe but a memory. A beautiful, tainted memory.

Carlisle never found her — I did.

I watched, seconds too late as a fourteen year old teenager —an angry, grieving boy shoved a vial of maroon liquid down the throat of the most gentle, beautiful creature in the world. She did not fight him off — she would never hurt another living thing - but it was more than that. Esme _wanted_ to die. I wanted to kill the boy, to tear apart every limb on his body with a ferocity that took my breath away but I couldn't move as Esme fell on her knees, grasping at her throat, her eyes wide and deeply sorrowful.

I caught her as she fell, smoothing back her hair from her forehead as she choked, tiny screams erupting from her mutilated mouth. The smell of rotting flesh tainted the air and I held her close to my body, close enough to feel the life seeping from her.

Carlisle found us some hours later and as soon as he saw us, I knew that he knew. I couldn't look him in the eye as I held his dying wife, feeling every bit of goodness left in my body melt away with her life.

Night blended into day and sunlight streamed through the canopy over her still, frigid body. Gliding over her pale lavender lids, touching her soft, curving lips, slipping over her throat. Slowly, like a million faceted diamonds, Esme's body began to fall apart from the inside, dissolved by the burning inferno of Dead Man's Blood. She fell like stardust into the meadow, glittering like morning dew on the grass.

Three people died in that meadow that day.

Carlisle fell to his knees, scrambling to pick up every last piece of her, his body wracked by heaving sobs. I stood rigidly still, watching as he picked up the pieces of my heart, something that certainly didn't belong to him and yet fit _him_ like a second skin, a soul mate. My conscience was well and truly gone by now, fleeing the destruction I had wreaked.

Esme was dead.

And so my descent into darkness began.


	12. Return of the Prodigal Conscience

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I do own the plot of this fanfiction.  
**

* * *

**12. RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL CONSCIENCE  
**

* * *

**E.  
**

I was on my own tonight hunting, scouring the streets for victims I didn't automatically despise to give them _some_ chance of survival. I repeated Tanya's instructions in my head, over and over, but it was no use. I _couldn't_ stop. The hunger was a compulsion again, I had let myself go too long without hunting and the frenzy was stronger than ever.

Until, I heard him.

_Those beautiful eyes… nice ass, bet she's a screamer… just look at those lips, imagine them wrapped around my —_

I wrenched myself away from my latest victim with all the strength I could manage, a growl erupting in my chest. I had barely enough time to seal the girl's wound and leave her ready to pass out on the sidewalk as I heard the thoughts inside his head.

I saw _Bella_ in his head.

I ran hard. Faster than I think I'd ever run in my entire existence, panic and hatred blending into one huge, dominant flood of adrenaline. In his head, I watched as she sped up — what the fuck was she doing out at this hour of the night?

"_Hey! Where are you goin'? Now don't be like that…"_

I willed myself to move faster — this couldn't be happening. His hand clamped over her mouth, he whispered in her ear and his thoughts were so vocal I could almost _feel_ his hand on her shoulder. I couldn't watch as someone did this to Bella, not after… I had done this to Esme. No matter how I tried to reason with myself, it was the exact same thing and I couldn't — it would _kill_ me to watch Bella die. To watch the spark die in her eyes as she retreated into herself and I knew I would blame myself. Damn it, I wasn't going fast enough!

He shoved her against the wall, his knee between her legs and _finally_ I could hear his cruel, grating laugh in the distance. Material ripping…

"Jesus!" I swore, propelling myself from the roof of a building and landing smoothly on my feet and directly behind Bella's attacker. I didn't stop to think about what I was doing — the only thing running through my mind was _eliminate the threat_.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair and snapped his neck back, the panic beginning to abate at the resounding crack that echoed in the sudden silence. He was dead, Bella was safe.

The panic flared to life at the expression on Bella's deathly pale face. Her breathing, loud and harsh could not rival the sound of her precious heart, pounding so hard that I thought it would burn right through her skin.

Finally, she lifted her wide brown eyes from the corpse in front of her and latched onto mine as moisture began to seep from her lashes.

"Edward," she choked out.

I flung the corpse away from her, a little harder than was necessary but I wasn't paying attention as I slowly checked Bella out for injury. Satisfied she wasn't hurt, I grabbed her, grunting a quick, "Hold on" before I swung her onto my back, waiting impatiently for her to get a grip on me before I took off, sprinting forward faster than I thought I could push myself.

_Safe._

I tried to reassure myself that Bella was safe now, but she wasn't was she? _I_ was here. _I_ was going to hurt her, I knew it like I knew how to breathe. I couldn't do it again. I couldn't hurt someone like that again.

I felt her press her forehead to the back of my neck, her warm breath soft against my skin. So gentle, and so breakable.

I stopped outside her house, swinging her off my back quickly as I tried to settle the churn of emotions in my head. She stumbled and despite every reason why I shouldn't touch her or be anywhere near her, I still caught her, holding her carefully at arm's length.

"You need to go inside," I said roughly.

"But…" Her voice was choked, hoarse and I felt terrified. _Had_ he touched her? Had he hurt her? I needed to make her safe.

"Go, Bella." I knew it sounded like a threat but I needed to know that she would be safe inside, that if I left, she wouldn't be hurt. Slowly, she nodded, fumbling for her keys in her jacket as she stumbled onto the porch.

If she stumbled _one more time_ — I had to get out of there. I ran as fast as I could back to where I had left the corpse, dialing home as I did so. Rosalie answered almost immediately.

"Edward?"

"Rose, listen to me — get to Bella's quick, will you?"

"What's going on?" Rose demanded.

"I'll explain when I get there. Tell Emmett to come find me, I need a little help."

"Already on the way, bro!" I heard in the background. I hung up, my message delivered. When I arrived back where I had dumped the corpse unceremoniously on the ground, I waited just under a minute for Emmett to arrive.

He whistled softly as he arrived, his eyebrows raised as he stared at the corpse.

"What did he do?"

I stared at Emmett stonily. "He tried to rape Bella."

_Shit_. Emmett's eyes widened and I gestured toward the corpse, my anger barely under control.

"Get rid of it for me?" I asked, my voice low and controlled.

Emmett didn't need telling twice. He hoisted the man over his shoulder and took off, scaling a building fast and quick as he took to the roofs, his mind cycling through different ways to get rid of him. He could have some fun this time — the guy's blood hadn't been sucked dry.

It was lashing rain by the time I got back to Bella's house and Rosalie was waiting outside on the front fence, arms crossed and eyes worried. She straightened when she saw me coming, frowning softly.

"What's going on?" she asked.

I stared up at the house, listening to the two quiet heartbeats that echoed from within it's walls. "Bella… Bella was nearly raped tonight."

Rosalie hands fisted around the fence and I heard the wood splinter under her hands. Her mind provided little glimpses of her past as she struggled to get herself under control.

"Come on." I climbed over the fence into Bella's back yard, waiting for Rose to join me before I glanced up at Bella's bedroom window. The light was off, and the panic started to burn through me. I was so terrified that she would have done something stupid. Esme had lost the will to live and she had been so vibrant. If Bella —

I climbed onto her windowsill, shoving the window out of my way.

"Fuck, Bella!" My entire body froze at the sight of her, curled up against the door, tears streaming down her face. Her body was shaking. I did the only thing I could think of, lifting her into my arms and, fighting to ignore the feel of her soft body against mine, I brought her into the small bathroom adjoining her room.

I set her down as gently as I could manage on the lid of the toilet seat and began flipping on the switch for the shower, and moving the dial around as I tried to determine what was a warm temperature for Bella.

"Rosalie!" I called, glancing at Bella. She was watching me with a dazed expression on her face, her teeth chattering and her shoulders shaking. She was in shock. She jumped when she saw Rosalie in the doorway, a brief flicker of panic in her eyes but Rosalie's voice was soft as she lifted Bella gently against her.

"Can you stand, Bella?"

I left the room, falling into her rocking chair and staring at the ceiling as I listened to the quiet thud of her heartbeat and tried to convince myself that everything was alright. But things weren't alright.

I had _been_ that guy. I had no right to hate him for what he had almost done to Bella because I was just as bad as he was. No, I was worse.

Esme was dead because of me.

Rosalie came out of the bathroom, collecting a few items of Bella's clothing from her closet. She picked up Bella's torn jacket from the floor and folded it into a neat square.

"I'll go now," she murmured. I nodded. She took Bella's jacket with her, presuming that Bella wouldn't want it. She would throw it out later herself. I went back to staring at Bella's white ceiling, my nerves taut. I had never before doubted so strongly that there was no God. Why would someone supposedly so loving allow something so evil to happen to Bella? Why would he have allowed Esme to stray onto my path? I wasn't good for either of them. I was a killer, whether directly or inadvertently.

I couldn't look at her when the bathroom door clicked shut. She didn't move for a long time and I just… I _ couldn't_ look at her.

"Thank you," she blurted.

I hissed, glaring at the ceiling. I had no right to accept her thanks.

"Edward?" she asked uncertainly after a long pause.

Her uncertainty was my undoing. I couldn't imagine how she was feeling; scared, panicked… who gave me the right to ignore her?

I glanced at her, unable to rearrange my expression from my rigid mask and I heard her heart rate begin to accelerate in her chest. Was she afraid of me? She should have been. I could have been her attacker. _I_ could have been the one to touch her, to trap her, to use her body as an excuse to show her what I felt.

I couldn't love her without hurting her. I had learned that lesson before and I would not do it again.

Ever.

"What the fuck were you doing on the streets at this hour?" I demanded, my voice quiet, controlled.

She flinched. I knew it sounded like I was blaming her for what happened, but I couldn't get the image out of my head and I wanted to erase it from my brain. I wanted her to be _safe_, and away from cowards like me.

"I — I was working…" She took a deep breath, her voice still shaky. "Mrs. Newton asked me to work late."

"Bella, do you ever say _no_?"

_Tell me to go. Tell me no._ I silently begged her with my mind. _Tell me what Esme never did. Tell me to stop. Tell me no._

Would I have stopped if Esme had said no? I couldn't answer my own question and _that_ answer left a bitter aftertaste. Bella _had_ to say no.

"Excuse me?" I watched as anger flared in Bella's eyes. "I am quite capable of saying _no_, Edward!"

_You just say it to the wrong people._ I snorted scornfully. "You let Jacob mess you around for years and you never told him no."

"Is that what this is about?" She moved away from the door she had almost been glued to, more angry than I had ever seen her. She was beautiful when she was angry, I observed with self—derision.

"You'd still go back to him, wouldn't you, Bella?" I sneered. "I've got centuries of experience watching abusive relationships and you'll go crawling back as soon as you think I won't hurt him, won't you, Bella?"

_Don't come back to me, Bella. _

It wasn't about Jacob, it was about me.

She needed to tell me no.

I knew my words hurt her and I hated myself for it, but Bella was better than this. Bella deserved to be loved by someone who wasn't so screwed up that she had to be hurt in so many ways. She tried to hide behind her anger, but I knew that if I hurt her this final time, she could heal properly.

"I won't," she said softly, shaking her head. "I have more self—respect than that."

_Please. Say no._

"And you can just forget that you love him?" I pressed.

Her voice hardened. "The Jacob I loved doesn't exist anymore."

"And you blame me?" _Blame me_.

"No." She started to pace and I wanted to hit something. She was saying no but she was saying it all wrong. Couldn't she see that I was a monster? "Jake chose to do what he does. You didn't make him."

"So you blame yourself," I realized. My voice softened; I might have been hurting her but she was hurting herself too.

"Why did you save me?" she asked abruptly.

_Because I was saving you from me. Like I'm trying to do now._

"Would you rather I left you there?" I countered.

"Answer the question."

Her determination didn't faze me, but _she_ did. There was no word to describe her. I stared at her stonily but inside, my body was reeling in turmoil. Her wide brown eyes stared me down because she wasn't afraid. Her heartbeat unsteadily in her chest because she was angry. Her cheeks were flushed and she was the most beautiful thing in the world. I saved her because I was saving her from me. But I was trying to save her from the world too. The compulsion was stronger than anything I had ever felt because I loved her. I would protect her from anything, even if that meant me. It was the difference between my love for Esme and my love for Bella. I was in love with Esme's beauty, with her nature. But my love for Esme hadn't been enough to conquer the selfishness in me, I had not been able to love her enough to put her first.

But Bella… I would do anything for her. I _would_ save her from me. Even if that meant lying to her.

"It was a reflex action," I whispered.

She stared at me, shocked and angry. "_A reflex action?" _She looked as if I had insulted her. "A r_eflex action _would have been to kill both of us — you're _you_ remember?" She started pacing again in long, frustrated strides. "You killed _Eric_, Edward — why the hell can't you kill _me_?"

"I don't know," I said coldly.

"Stop _lying_ to me!" Her face was flushed, her voice on the verge of yelling at me. "Just once, _please_ tell me the truth."

I couldn't.

I couldn't open my mouth and tell her that I loved her.

I was a monster.

I was a murderer.

I was selfish.

I couldn't tell her that I loved her because it would be the most selfish thing I could ever do to her with words.

She waited for me to speak, but I never opened my mouth. She turned, trying to hide her tears from me as she began to pace but it was too late. I had to end this conversation. I had to make her say no.

She turned and I caught her wrist, whirling her around. Surprise had barely registered in her eyes before I bent my head and my mouth crashed down as gently as I could manage onto hers.

It was like my entire body had flared to life. Her heartbeat skittered in her chest as I held her to me, my hands fisting in the hem of her t—shirt and I was surrounded by her warmth. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before, disconcertingly so. Like electricity had ignited over every surface of skin that touched hers and while my mind begged her to say no, her hands fisted in my hair and I never wanted her to let go. Her lips, so warm and pliant under mine, held no protest as I kissed her with almost bruising force. And I couldn't do this to her.

Pulling away was harder than trying to stop drinking blood, but it was Bella and I couldn't ever fucking do this to her.

"Fuck!" I cursed, moving away from her so fast that she stumbled and fell back onto her bed. I stared at her ceiling, cursing myself for coming so close to doing to her what I'd done to Esme.

She thought I couldn't see her as she drew her knees up under her chin, her heart beating furiously in her chest as she stared at me, her face contorted into an expression of hurt and shock.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, silently begging her to say no.

Her gaze dropped.

"Get out," she said softly.

She finally said no. The monster in me rebelled but I stopped cursing in relief. I could stop hurting her now.

* * *

The door was opened almost immediately and a tall, blond vampire stood, looking tired and drawn, in the large hall. His light, honeyed eyes reflected surprise and wariness as he cleared his throat.

"Edward?"

"Hello, Carlisle."

Six years had done nothing to prevent the grief from being etched into his face and I almost choked on the guilt that curled like a dangerous, incurable disease in my stomach.

"What are you doing here?" Carlisle asked finally, his tone tired. "I thought you were never coming back."

"I…" I faltered. I'd drive for miles, rehearsing everything I needed to say, everything I needed to get out of my system but my words felt like insults now. He had taken me in, made me a part of his family and I… I had raped his wife.

"I need your help." The words sounded selfish on my mouth, but I _did_ need his help. Not for me, but for Bella. Some of my desperation must have leaked into my voice because his eyes widened slightly and he nodded, gesturing inside. I detected other minds within the house but no—one came to disturb us as he led me inside the house and into what I presumed what was his study. Shelves upon shelves of books, all neatly stacked, lined the room and at a glance, I noticed most of the titles were to do with medicine. He had practiced for years before I had joined him but he had never acquired an official position at a hospital by the time I had left. But judging by the medical briefcase lying beside the table, I guessed he had started after Esme's death. I guess it was kind of appropriate. Carlisle was the type — if someone died, he would try to fix a million more. Who was I to judge him for it?

Carlisle sat down in the large leather chair, and gestured for me to sit on one of the chairs opposite. I did so nervously, my gaze wavering awkwardly as I tried to meet his eyes. The last time we had spoken had not been under the best circumstances. After Carlisle had collected as much of Esme's glittering dust from the grass, he brought her, holding her reverently in the palms of his hands, to our home and placed her in an urn. I noticed the same urn behind him on a table beside the books that looked most flipped through. My chest constricted at the sight of her final resting place, my eyes catching the faint glitter on the dust through the glass. The night he had brought her home, he placed the urn on the dining room table and planted candles around it. He let them burn themselves out as he remained at the table, praying to a God I believed didn't exist that he had received her beautiful soul. Only when the faint glow of the candles had finally died, did he speak to me. He wanted to know if I had been in love with his wife. I told him what I had done. I endured his anger then and I had not cared because I was selfish. But tonight I wanted to tell him what I should have that night.

"I understand if you don't wish to speak with me," I began awkwardly.

Carlisle sighed. "I forgave you a long time ago, Edward. Forever is a long time to hate someone."

"How?" I asked earnestly. "How did you forgive me?"

Carlisle raised his eyebrows. "Do you think I'm lying?"

"No," I answered sharply. "I just can't understand how you can forgive me. After what I did…" Bella wasn't even mine and yet I knew in the deepest corners of my body that I would never have forgiven that man for putting his hands on Bella.

Carlisle sighed, levering himself out of his chair as he raked a hand through his blond hair. He turned to me, his eyes pained. "I'm not going to help you justify what you've done, Edward, but… Esme was sick."

"Vampires can't get sick."

Carlisle shot me a half—smile. "I'm well aware of that fact. But that's not what I mean. When I found Esme, she was in a morgue. Miraculously, her heart was still beating but she had fallen from a cliff and chances of recovering didn't exist. She would have died had I not turned her, and I was so captivated by her beauty like I imagine you were, that losing her was not an option."

I nodded, because that part I understood.

"No one had pushed her over that cliff. Esme had lost her will to live and threw herself off that cliff without a second thought because she _wanted_ to die. She had lost a baby, a little boy, only days before and she blamed herself for his death even though many infants are born still—born and it is not the mother's fault at all." Carlisle shook his head, his gaze flickering toward the glass urn as he continued to speak. "She hated me for saving her. Years past before she trusted me, before she saw me differently. Though I had fallen for her almost immediately, it had not been like that for Esme. She was the most beautiful, kindest, gentlest creature on the planet but she was… unstable. I knew in her way that she _did_ love me and I loved her so much that it didn't matter that sometimes she would get angry at me for saving her."

He paused, gauging my reaction. I had remained still during his explanation, but I was amazed that I had not seen this side of Esme. Granted, my ability had still been developing but if Carlisle had noticed it, why hadn't I?

"When you came into our lives, I thought that maybe things would change. She seemed happy with you around, she liked making sure that you were comfortable with us and that you had what you needed. She loved it when you would play the piano, she said it was the ability you had developed as a vampire. But it wasn't, was it?" Carlisle eyed me, a small, accusatory smile on his face. "You told us that you didn't have a special ability, but after a few years I figured it out. You can read minds, can't you?"

"Yes." I nodded guiltily. "I never told you because I thought it would freak you out. It took awhile for me to control it, to use it without any effort on my part."

"Esme never knew. Your music enchanted her. I thought that we had finally put her rages and her anger behind her. After you…" Carlisle faltered. "After that time, she withdrew into herself like she had in the beginning. Edward, I'm not condoning what you did but it wasn't your fault that Esme… did what she did. When word of Billy's accusations got back to her, I knew that as soon as she disappeared that she would do something stupid. She'd say it was her way of protecting us but she had had enough. If we had stopped her, she would have found some other way because she never forgave _me_ for saving her."

"What are you trying to say?" I demanded, rising to my feet. "That it's _your_ fault that Esme wanted to die?"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to say," Carlisle said calmly.

"No!" I said angrily. "She wouldn't kill herself because of _you_! It _was_ because of me, Carlisle. When we — when it was over, the only thing she could say was 'Carlisle' as if _she_ had betrayed you, not _me_."

"No, Edward." Carlisle stared at me from across the table, his voice quiet and steady. "She didn't tell you to stop did she?"

"I — I," I stammered. "I didn't give her the chance."

"She _could_ have stopped you, Edward," Carlisle interrupted. "She could have stopped _me_. She gave you what you wanted because she — she loved you too. Her love for you was unobstructed by resentment for saving her and your music… it made her feel alive in a way that she hadn't been in so long."

"But that doesn't explain why she wanted to die," I pointed out.

"She always wanted to die," Carlisle said quietly. "Only this time, she found a way."

He went over to the shelf and pulled out an old looking, leather bound book. He slammed it down on the table in front of me and gestured for me to open it on the page he had bookmarked.

The book was like an explanation of different poisons, written in old calligraphy with accompanying pictures of monsters, graphic and accurate images of some creatures I had never even heard of. When I opened the page he had bookmarked, I gasped.

**Dead Man's Blood**

_A harmless, easily acquired poison, Dead Man's Blood was only recognized as a lethal poison in the twelfth century when several of the Vampire Volturi guard were stranded in an abandoned city south of the equator. Thirsty, they dug up the bodies of the dead and drank from their necks, dying within days of the feed. This deadly poison is not known to affect any other species than that of the Vampire, and symptoms of Dead Man's Blood exposure include burning of the skin and purplish bruises. It is only lethal when taken orally, but is still potentially serious when touched. _

The article was accompanied by a picture of the glittering dust I remembered from the meadow after Esme had died. I looked up at Carlisle who had been watching my reaction.

"I found her reading that four days before your friend arrived," Carlisle explained quietly. He flipped the book closed to the back cover and pulled a piece of paper from under the leather. I didn't recognize the writing.

_Meet me in the meadow north of the village, you can explain "everything" then,  
Billy_

"I don't understand," I said, glancing up. Carlisle's smile was sad.

"Esme told Billy that she killed his wife. Billy didn't believe her, but young Jacob did. I have since seen Billy's handwriting — and this isn't it. By the time Esme arrived in the meadow, she didn't care who did it. She just couldn't do it herself. So she handed Jacob the vial…"

"And the praying…" I whispered. "You wanted her to get the peace she had strived for all along."

Carlisle nodded solemnly. "I wanted her to be with her son."

The knot deep in my stomach began to unravel and it felt like I could finally _breathe_. I'd carried it for so long that the guilt inside me that the little reprieve Carlisle's words had granted me was overwhelming. For the first time, I could look him in the eye and know that we had both lost together and not lost because of me. I didn't feel guilty that I mourned for her because it wasn't my fault she was gone in the first place.

"Thank you," I said softly. Carlisle inclined his head and instinctively, I wrapped an arm around his shoulders, clapping him on the back in an uncharacteristic display of support.

When I pulled back, Carlisle managed a tired smile. "You're welcome to return to my family, you know, Edward. You were always like a son to me."

My throat went dry and I couldn't understand how someone like him, someone so gracious and forgiving could embrace a life of peace and still want me in their life. He knew what I was. He knew, even before Esme, that I wasn't the kind of person who could live the way he did. It wasn't just about human blood.

I could heal from the wounds that my mistake with Esme had inflicted but it didn't make me a better person. I still murdered.

_Bella_.

I still wasn't worthy of someone so good.

And even if I wanted to accept Carlisle's offer, I couldn't. I already had a family. A family I loved, even if I wouldn't admit it. Rosalie and Emmett accepted me for what I was, past or no past, and I accepted them for what _they_ were.

"I'm sorry, Carlisle," I said quietly. "But I have a family."

Carlisle nodded, as if he had expected this.

When I left his house, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I climbed into Rosalie's BMW but as I drove back home, the clarity I had achieved began to fade. I was still confused and terrified when I thought of Bella. I shouldn't have left her like that, she had told me to get out but I should have stayed close in case something happened and even though I had been given closure, I knew it would have been worth nothing if something had happened to Bella while I had been away.

The longer I drove, the more panic seemed to set in. Eventually, it got too much and pulled out my cell phone, dialing Rosalie's number. She answered on the first ring, her voice quiet.

"Hey, Edward."

"Hey, Rose — can you check on Bella for me?" I asked, laying the charm on thick.

"I'm already standing under her bedroom window, don't worry."

I blinked in shock, but then a slow smile spread across my face. "Thanks, Rose."

"Whatever," she laughed softly. "Since I _hope_ you're looking after _my_ baby, I'm looking after yours."

Family. It normally went unspoken, but Emmett, Rosalie and I really _did_ love each other.

"Thanks," I breathed again, hanging up and setting down my phone with a lot more peace of mind than I was used to. Bella was safe. I'd stick to my plan and I wouldn't interact with her anymore, but I'd damn well make sure she was safe. When I arrived back home in Port Angeles, I had only a few hours left to sunrise. I parked Rosalie's BMW in the drive with the keys in the ignition — if someone stole it, it wouldn't be difficult getting it back — and I sprinted down the street before Emmett could come out and stop me. I met Rosalie halfway there and I told her that her car was safe.

She rolled her eyes. "It had better be."

I grinned and took off once more, slipping into Bella's back yard silently and hoisting myself onto her windowsill as I'd done so many times before. Her breathing was quiet and steady, her heart thumping reassuringly in her chest as I moved inside the room.

I would have sat down on the rocking chair if it hadn't been for the smell of recent paint fumes. Frowning, my head swiveled in the direction of her canvas and my entire being went still.

How many times had I stared at the canvas and wondered why she drew eyes that saw all, that watched all? That watched _her_? Familiar eyes that I couldn't place.

My eyes.

The red slivers that weaved like electric bolts from the irises against the black were stunningly accurate and disconcertingly beautiful. I made a mental note to do something when I got home, but I wouldn't tell Bella. I wanted it to be a surprise.

I was too engrossed in the painting that I almost didn't recognize the tell—tale signs of her imminent awakening until it was nearly too late. As her heart rate began to increase, I slipped out the window as fast as I could and fell down into her yard, listening to the sound of her pulse.

"Edward?"

* * *

**B.**

I woke, disorientated, just as a shadow passed over the wall and I thought I heard the click of the window. It took a second for me to realize what that meant and as soon as it dawned on me, I was pushing off the covers hastily.

"Edward?" My voice sounded hoarse from sleep, but I put as much volume into it as possible without waking Charlie. It took both my hands to shove the window open and I frantically searched the back yard for a sign of him. I was terrified that when I had told him to get out, he had taken that as an order to never come back, and the ripple of pain that tore across my chest at the thought was unbearable.

"Edward?" I called again, my voice faltering. I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cold glass as I fought back tears. I was so sure that he had been here but it was possible that I had dreamed him up… "Come back, please," I whispered.

I never opened my eyes, but I felt the cool breeze fluttering strands of my hair around my neck as the window slid back open and closed again. I hadn't realized that moisture had managed to leak from my lids until his cold thumb brushed them away and I finally opened my eyes to look at him.

He looked so conflicted, his brow furrowed in a dark frown and his dark eyes searching my face as if expecting to find another bruise. Something to explain the expression on my face.

"I thought you weren't going to come back," I admitted softly.

His fingers brushed away the tears from my face gently.

His crooked smile was sad as he dropped his hands, backing away from me to sit in the rocking chair. I sat down on the end of my bed, clasping my hands together on my lap awkwardly.

"Bella, I'm sorry." He leaned forward, his head in his hands as he ran his fingers throw his disheveled hair tiredly. "That night… I took a lot of my anger out on you and I'm sorry."

"Edward, Jake and I are over, okay?" I said, wanting him to believe me. I wouldn't ever go back to Jake again.

"I know," Edward nodded. "I _knew_ that. I was just… using Jacob as an excuse."

I stared at him, confused, but he just glanced up at me and smiled sadly.

"I need you to stay away from me, Bella. I'm good for you."

"Why?" I demanded. I stood up and when he stood with me, I knew he wasn't going to let me start pacing.

"Your pacing makes me dizzy — which is about as easy as giving me a heart attack," he said roughly, stopping me with a hand on my elbow. His fingers were cold on my bare skin but the electricity igniting under my skin was warm.

"_You_ make me dizzy," I murmured. He sighed and I inhaled the scent of his sweet, honeyed breath.

"I know, but I shouldn't," he said softly.

"Why?" I repeated.

He dropped his hand from my arm, moving away from me. I stood still, waiting for him to turn around and face me. He didn't. He just stared at my canvas and I flushed as I realized the similarities were too obvious to hide who I had painted. Even through my tears, I had been meticulously careful with the detail. I never wanted to forget his eyes.

"Why did you paint this?" he asked softly.

I knew lying was useless — he'd know almost immediately.

"I like that you watch me. It makes me feel safe," I admitted. "When I told you to get out, I thought you weren't coming back so I…" I gestured toward the painting and he nodded, his brow knotted in a frown.

"Edward, why did you kiss me?" I asked abruptly.

"To make you push me away," he responded, his voice almost a whisper.

"It didn't work."

"I know."

I did what I used to do with Jake when I was younger and we both had embarrassing secrets to tell each other. I sat down on the carpet beside my bed on the side opposite the door. There was something about this position that made me feel safer about divulging my secrets — as if no—one could hear us, even with their ears pressed up against the door. It was stupid, but I felt better.

I swiveled my head around and realized that Edward was watching me with a curious expression on his face.

"Come here." I patted the space beside me on the carpet.

He hesitated, and then moved slowly toward me, sitting down carefully beside me. Our shoulders were almost touching and the electricity burned in the little space that separated our skin.

I glanced down at Edward's hand on the rug beside my thigh. Slowly, I slid my fingers along his hand, shivering slightly as electricity pulsed between us. He lifted his hand to face palm—upwards and I entwined my fingers with his, reveling in the extreme difference of my warm hand and his cold one. His fingers closed around mine loosely and I wondered at how something so simple could mean so much.

Jake would scoff at holding hands but watching Edward's extremely pale hand entwined with mine filled me with a strange contentment.

"Why are you so eager to push me away?" I murmured uncertainly, my eyes focusing on our hands instead of his face. I wasn't sure of myself with him, not like I had been with Jake in the beginning. Jake took charge, Jake kissed me when I hadn't even known I was ready and it had been an effortless flow from friendship to a relationship. Edward wasn't going to tell me that I should be his girlfriend and expect me to go along with it.

"I'm not a good person, Bella. You _know_ that. I killed Eric and so many more people without blinking an eyelid —"

"I know about Eric, but you don't have an alternative to feeding, right?" I interrupted, trying to understand.

"There are others out there who have found a more peaceful way to live. They feed on the blood of animals. It's unsatisfying but it stops the thirst from becoming too much," he admitted. "I was one of them before I came to Port Angeles."

"Why did you leave?" I asked curiously. A part of me was buzzing from the fact that he had finally decided to open up to me.

"It's a long story," Edward said reluctantly.

"We have until dawn," I said. I knew he was still reluctant so I played the only card I had against him, knowing full well that it wouldn't work in his favor. "This is your chance to scare me off."

He chuckled softly and I could feel the vibrations through the bed we were both leaning back against. "Okay." I waited, and his story began to pour out. He was reluctant at first, recounting memories in only a few sentences and I sensed there was more to them than he was telling me. He explained about Victoria, how she had picked him up on the side of the road and bitten him. He had surfaced from the pain three days later in an inn and his life as a vampire began. He told me that he had been appalled that he had just attacked the man that Victoria had brought in as a "snack". I winced but he continued, his fingers loose around mine so I could pull free whenever I chose. I never did, though. He explained how he had visited his mother and how she had rejected him. I didn't want to say anything because I knew he would stop but my heart ached for him. What mother rejected her child? He told me without remorse how he had killed Victoria and burned the inn to the ground before he took off into the mountains where he stayed for a very long time, living off the blood of animals. He described how it had been unsatisfying and he had begun to hate himself for it. He killed the first man that strayed into his territory and he left, a "full" vampire again. He relished in the feeling of not loathing himself for what he was until he arrived in Forks all those years ago. I held my breath as he described Esme, how beautiful and enchanting she was and I couldn't help the spurt of jealousy I felt towards this glorious immortal. Edward explained how he had fallen in love with her but he mentioned what he learned earlier that day in Carlisle's study, careful to make sure that I understood everything as he explained his part in the story. When he brought up Jake, I realized he was answering everything that Jacob had never told me. All those times I had begged him to tell me, he had shut me out, but now I finally understood. Jacob had been driven mad with grief and Billy's stupid superstitions. Billy had known that Esme had not killed Lillian — but he had thought that Edward did. After Jacob killed Esme in the meadow, his father convinced him that it was actually Edward. They'd been hunting him ever since. He explained coming to Port Angeles and finding Rosalie and Emmett. How they had accepted him despite everything he had believed up until earlier today.

When he finished, we were both silent for a long time. I was trying to absorb all he was saying while finally realizing the true extent of Jacob's pain. I had known that not talking about it was going to lead to something bad and I knew that Jacob was going to crack. I hoped going to Washington would give him a chance to let go of his mother because he would be away from vampires, but he wouldn't seek out help. I could only hope, not know, that he would heal.

"I'm glad you went to see Carlisle," I whispered finally, my thumb stroking the groove between his index finger and his thumb.

"As am I." He sounded tired. I glanced up at him, and he had his eyes closed, his head resting on the duvet.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to kiss you," I told him softly.

"That's not a very good idea." He still didn't open his eyes, or move his head.

"It's the only idea I have." Slowly, I moved onto my knees, lifting our joined hands between us as I moved closer, meeting no resistance.

I pressed my lips to his softly, breathing in his scent and reveling in the electricity that burned between us. My eyes fluttered closed as moved my lips in unfamiliar patterns and he kissed me back gently, igniting a slow fire that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with acceptance. When my lips parted, my free hand reaching to brush through his hair, I felt the gentle slide of his tongue across my lips. My heart racing, I leaned into him further, but his free hand stilled my face as he kissed me in a way that no one ever had. He was so careful, his fingers sliding through my hair, his quick breathing cold on my mouth and I knew he was so terrified that he would hurt me but he still gave me this.

Breathing heavily, I was the one that had to pull back for air before I fainted and his eyes opened, staring at me like I was the most precious thing in the world. And I didn't care that my fingers were going numb from the cold in his because he was staring at me like that.

"Will you stay, tonight?" I whispered against his lips.

His face lit up in a small, crooked smile and he brushed my hair back from my face gently. "I always stay."

I stood up and he followed, still holding my gaze as a blush began to warm my cheeks. "I meant, on the bed."

I sat down on the bed, pulling the duvet around me and reaching out my other hand for him. He lay down beside me over the duvet, enveloping me in his arms and his scent and I shifted even closer to him, holding his gaze for a long time before I felt calm enough to sleep.

He started humming a song in my ear, a soft, gentle song I instantly loved. It sounded vaguely familiar, like I had dreamt of it before but I was too tired to ask him about it. I had almost drifted off to sleep when a sudden thought occurred to me.

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"You're a good person, underneath everything."

He continued to hum without answering me but I knew he had heard me. Whether he believed me or not was another story but I had tomorrow to convince him. And I _would_.

It was time for Edward to stop hurting.


End file.
